Rising Winds
by Terese Brandt
Summary: The sins of the father forshadow Tenou Haruka's life...the story begins with the history of her parents and continues throughout her emergance into adulthood...
1. The Sins Of The Father

As countless other unfortunates before her, Tenou Haruka's life was cursed before she was   
  
even born. The beautiful, strong and unsurpassable athlete and auto racer, considered to be the   
  
greatest in both fields for her generation, came from less than ideal circumstances. Behind her   
  
strong, proud façade, behind her superior attitude, poise and intelligence, lay a woman who had   
  
been to hell and back. Her eyes, a kaleidoscope of blue, green and grey, were stormy and hostile;   
  
she would not let anyone touch her. Ten'ou Haruka was a self-made woman; she had inherited   
  
nothing from her parents except her colouring, and was proud of this fact. All of her wealth, her   
  
successes and her strength she had earned on her own through pain and suffering. Tenou Haruka   
  
stood alone since her date of birth, and had expected to be alone for all of her life.   
  
In order to better understand Haruka, one must be familiar with her past, and the events   
  
that contributed to her life before her time. Haruka's past was a delicate subject that she kept   
  
locked within her. She had never loved or trusted anyone enough to reveal her past, to   
  
explain how she became who she is, and why she reacts the way she does. Haruka tried to suppress   
  
her memories, but knew that she could never entirely disregard them. Her past was who she was; it   
  
shaped her, gave her the strength to overcome all obstacles and survive the jealousy, prejudice   
  
and hatred of others. Although Tenou Haruka was a proud woman, she was not proud of her past and   
  
upbringing; yet, she was proud of herself for overcoming it and rising above it. Haruka's   
  
stubborn pride and determination had saved her life, more than once, and it would take a very   
  
special circumstance for her to discard of it. Her pride was her greatest strength-but also her   
  
greatest weakness. Her inability to let go of her pride and listen to others would cause herself   
  
harm in the future. It was not until she met the love of her life that Haruka was able to let go…  
  
  
  
*****  
  
Haruka's life was destroyed before she had even been born, by circumstances that had   
  
nothing to do with her yet would change her life forever. Haruka's father, Tenou Okura, had been   
  
the greatest runner in Japanese history, breaking many national records and surpassing all other   
  
athletes he fought against. At the age of 23, he competed against thousands of hopeful young men   
  
to represent Japan in the 1984 Summer Olympics-and won. A student of the University of Osaka,   
  
majoring in law, Okura had the world at his feet. In addition to being the fastest racer in   
  
Japanese history, Okura was an honour student, the editor of his school newspaper and was   
  
sponsored by a wealthy automobile manufacturer. He was also incredibly handsome, standing several   
  
inches over 6', with a slim muscular physique, tan skin, blue-grey eyes and sandy blond hair.  
  
Many women were interested in him, and he had his choice of women. For his wife he chose   
  
none other than Marubeni Kotano, a promising young model with turquoise eyes and long,   
  
golden hair.They were a picture perfect couple, both famous, both beautiful and both fulfilling   
  
their dreams.   
  
It was a shame that Okura would destroy not only their lives, but also the hopes of Japan   
  
and the life of his unborn daughter.  
  
Okura believed himself invincible, unstoppable, and unsurpassable. It may have been that   
  
he was young, or under stress, or fear, but to many it appeared to be sheer idiocy. How a man   
  
with his education, his knowledge and understanding of sports procedures and tests, could have   
  
done something so unbelievably stupid was the question that the world asked. For, like the   
  
failures of   
  
many famous people, Okura's great shame was broadcasted across the world, witnessed by   
  
billions-live on television, on the news and in the papers. Because of his fame, and the fame of   
  
the Olympic games, Okura became even more famous than he had been before-but in an entirely   
  
negative way. Whoever said that any publicity was good publicity had never encountered the case   
  
of the great Tenou Okura.   
  
The 1984 Olympics was a dream for the young Okura. His lifelong dream had come true:   
  
representing his country against the world in the most famous athletic event in the world. Not   
  
only would he be racing for the honour of his country, Okura was also racing to have his name go   
  
down in history.   
  
Ever since his childhood, Okura had dreamed of being immortalized, having his name live on   
  
forever in history texts and record books. Okura wanted the record for being the fastest man in   
  
the world-of all time! He dreamed of this madness for years and years; this dream would push him   
  
to train for hours each day, racing in the mud, in the sand, and in the snow. He would exert   
  
himself until his body would no longer support him, until he collapsed, clutching his aching   
  
ribcage, gasping from the inability to breathe. Yet, this was all part of the Master Plan for   
  
Okura: he believed that nothing was worth fighting for unless one had to work for it. And work he   
  
did. By the time Okura had graduated from high school, he was the holder of many trophies and   
  
medals, and the breaker of many records. He was declared the greatest junior athlete in all of   
  
Japan, and was offered scholarships top different universities all around the world.   
  
Despite the opportunity to study aboard, Okura decided instead to attend the University of Osaka,   
  
in the city of his birth. This way he would be earning trophies for his hometown. Okura was a   
  
very patriotic young man, loyal to his city and country. Although he had the opportunity to study   
  
and train for universities in New York, Munich, Boston and Paris, he remained loyal to his   
  
homeland. His choice, so patriotic and devoted, became a fixation of the Osaka public. They loved   
  
their Golden Boy even more because of his loyalty. This way, the city would share in Okura's   
  
triumphs, successes and fame. Little did the city know that Okura's downfall would also be shared   
  
with their fallen hero.  
  
That year's Olympic games took place in Los Anglos, California. Okura was excited to be   
  
competing in America-the richest, most powerful nation in the world, home of many of the finest   
  
athletes. He would represent his country against the world, in a foreign country, and show them   
  
all what he-and Japan-were capable of. To compete in the 100, 200, 400, 800 and 1 500m races, his   
  
dreams come true! He would win gold in all five, and become the top Japanese runner ever, no, the   
  
top world racer ever! Five gold medals, five record-breaking speeds, his dream of all dreams. His   
  
hopes had never been higher, the expectations of his supporters and country had never been   
  
higher. A sure recipe for disaster. This was to be Okura's first foreign competition-and his   
  
last.   
  
He travelled to Los Anglos with his fiancée, the beautiful model Kotano. Secretly they   
  
had become engaged, and had planned to announce the news of their union after the final race,   
  
when Okura was to win his fifth gold medal. When the gold medal would be placed around Okura's   
  
neck, he would propose to his wife, live on television, his message broadcasted around the globe.   
  
The greatest publicity stunt of their careers! Of course, this was a five-way plan between   
  
Okura, Kotano, Okura's sponsors and both of their managers, and all five parties kept in touch   
  
and were informed about this master plan. Yet, the public would believe that it was a spontaneous   
  
proposal, declared in the heat of the moment. They could see the money rolling in: magazine and   
  
television interviews, modeling gigs for Kotano, a book, maybe even a motion picture! ^ The story   
  
of Tenou Okura and Marubeni Kotano^, two beautiful blondes, rising to become the most famous,   
  
talented, rich, successful couple in the world! Oh, and also the couple who shared the greatest   
  
love. Yes, it was the perfect plan-all Okura had to do was win all of his races, but that was   
  
inevitable! There was no faster man than Tenou Okura, the man who was as fast and as great as the   
  
divine wind!   
  
The first three races went well for Okura, as he won the gold in the 100m, 200m and 400m.   
  
The crowds cheered him on, their belief and faith rising with every gold he won for his country.   
  
Okura was on top of his game, confident and sure of himself and his abilities. He was so sure of   
  
himself that he ceased his training in order to bask in the glow of his publicity. Yet, as his   
  
ego and fame grew, his inability to see the truth began to cloud his judgement. He was so sure   
  
of himself that his defeat in the 800m almost destroyed him. At the last minute, Sven Magnussen   
  
replaced Georges Thorvork in the 400m race. A relative unknown, Sven was able to overcome Japan's   
  
hero, and took the gold medal for Sweden. Okura was distraught. A silver medal! It was   
  
unacceptable!   
  
His once happy, supportive and generous sponsors grew angry at him, and pressured him   
  
further towards success, pushing him to train harder, to reach for the gold in the final race-or   
  
else. The media was in a frenzy, hounding him at all hours, wanting to know the reason for   
  
failing to win his last race. The Master Plan was at stake! If Okura did not win the 1 500m race,   
  
then he could not propose in the joy and exhilaration of the moment! If he did not win,   
  
(threatened his supporters), then they would discontinue their funds. If he did not win, then he   
  
would become a disgrace. He would lose his honour, and the honour of his country. He would lose   
  
his beautiful fiancée, his dreams for his future, everything! If he did not win, then he was   
  
finished as a runner-and as a man. Okura had to win-at all costs!   
  
Okura locked himself in his hotel room the night before the big race. He paced across   
  
his room, back and forth, clawing at his short blond hair, wanting to pull it out by the roots.   
  
On the couch lay Kotano in lavender lingerie, running her slender fingers up and down her   
  
breasts, trying to entice her lover. But Okura was in no mood for sex. His future lay on this one   
  
race, the 1 500m. It should have been a piece of cake-all but for that damned Swede!  
  
  
  
"Okura, baby, calm down," Kotano purred seductively, lowering her eyes and running her   
  
fingers over her lips. She scowled as Okura did not even grant her a look.  
  
"Okura, just relax! Everything will be fine! You'll beat that Magnussen, you'll leave him   
  
in the dust! Why don't you just come to bed; you need your sleep for the race tomorrow, and I'll   
  
give you something to look forward to after you win!"  
  
Okura just scowled. "Kotano, do you not realise that my entire life is at stake?! If I   
  
lose...Oh, God! If I lose...I don't just lose the race, but my career, my financial support, my   
  
pride, everything! Oh, God...Oh, God..." He buried his face in his hands.  
  
"Of course I realise this!" Kotano beat her fist against the wall, which surprised them   
  
both. Kotano was not known to be practically motivated or emotionally involved in anything other   
  
than her appearance. The fact that she would risk bruising her hands showed that she was quite   
  
passionate about this conversation.   
  
  
  
"Damn, Okura, I know just as well as you do what is at stake! I have a lot to lose as   
  
well! But if you don't calm down, and rest, then you'll be too exhausted to compete tomorrow! If   
  
you lose...God forbid, it is not the end of the world. There's always four years from now...and   
  
come on, are three gold, and one silver, so bad? You have done exceptionally well, Love.   
  
Everything will be alright, Okura, just calm down..."  
  
  
  
"Just calm down? What the fuck are you talking about? This is my life, Kotano, my dream,   
  
my pride, my honour...Can you not comprehend that? If I lose...Christ, Kotano, if I am to lose,   
  
then everything that I've worked towards my entire life has been for naught. For naught! All the   
  
hours of training, the humiliation of whoring myself for a sponsor, the endless discussions with   
  
my manager...for naught! My whole life will have been for naught! Without this gold, I am   
  
nothing, nothing!" Okura cried out, losing all shreds of self-control.  
  
  
  
He grabbed his windbreaker and ran out of the hotel. When all seemed lost, Okura would   
  
run, he would run as fast as he could, until he could see and feel nothing but the feel of the   
  
wind through his hair. When his problems seemed to be too much, he would simply run to escape   
  
them all, his fears, his doubts and his pain. He would run until he was embraced by the wind,   
  
until he ceased to be Tenou Okura, and became just a part of the rustling, violent, unbreakable   
  
wind. 


	2. The Sins Of The Father 2

Soon After Okura left…  
  
*****  
  
Back in the hotel room, Kotano sighed, then buried her head into the couch cushions. She was shaking slightly, and cool sweat ran down her brow.  
  
"Dammit, Okura," she gasped, distressed. "How can you take this all so seriously…it's a race, just a race, dammit! There will be others, my love, maybe not as important…but is winning the be all and end all? Do you have to be a racer, at all?"  
  
Kotano sighed deeply. She just could not understand Okura, her fiancée, the man who she lay beside each night, whom she admired, whom she adored, whom she felt a great passion and love towards. It had not been part of the plan for her to fall so desperately in love with him.  
  
The room suddenly felt too hot, even though the hotel provided air-conditioning, Kotano was simply unused to the scorching California summers. She left the couch cautiously; the conversation with Okura had left her feeling weak, feeling powerless. She felt unloved, unimportant, undesired…  
  
Okura was the only man who was able to make Kotano question herself, her charm and her feminine appeal. Other men she was able to manipulate, to do her biddings and to control. With other men, just a glance from behind long lashes would crumble their resistance, and leave them powerless and completely at her mercy. Not Okura, though. He had been the only man to ever run out on her. Oh, cursed fate, which cursed her to love a man she could not understand, a man whom was beyond her reach, her control, and her love…  
  
Kotano recalled the angry, desperate words that Okura had hurled at her before his hasty departure.  
  
{"…This is my life, my dream!"}  
  
  
  
{"…Everything that I've worked towards my entire life has been for naught. For naught!"}  
  
{"My whole life will have been for naught!"}  
  
"All he cares about are his stupid races; they consist of his entire life; past, present-and future! His stupid races are more important to him than our relationship, even than our wedding! Without being the champion, the greatest racer, then his life would be meaningless…our relationship, meaningless…  
  
"No," her mind screamed, in excruciating pain, each heartbeat magnified until every time her heart pumped it sounded like a drum was banging in her head. He had to love her, he just had to!   
  
Kotano observed herself in the mirror; she saw a tall, shaking woman with wild blond hair, twisted lingerie in a knot, one pale breast exposed, tear streaked face, pale, bloodless lips.   
  
"Was I crying?" she asked herself, absently touching her face. It was damp and hot. Strange, but she could not remember doing so. How had her hair become so dishevelled? Her face so pale? She couldn't remember…and she could not recognise the girl in the mirror. A stranger…  
  
"No! How dare you make me feel this way! Damn you Okura! Damn you!" She gasped, and saw her reflection do the same. He had done this to her, Okura, that selfish, cruel, thoughtless bastard…that she happened to love. He did not return her feelings, though. All he cared about were his stupid races, and his stupid image, and his stupid pride…she was nothing to him but an accessory, the hottest young model in Japan. Once he tired of her…once her tired of her…  
  
"No! He can't; he won't! I, I, I…I won't let him! I'll keep him, no matter what! I'll do anything to keep him, even if it destroys him, if it destroys us both…"She collapsed, gasping, on the floor. The blood was rushing through her ears, behind her eyes, she felt it emerging up her throat, in her mouth…she heard nothing but her weak body gasping and choking. The room was too silent; she was alone, desperately and eternally alone…  
  
The silence was deafening. She must do something to penetrate it or go mad. In desperation, Kotano grasped Okura's silver medal from the coffee table and threw it at the desperate, gasping, weak girl behind the glass. The mirror shattered with a bang, and a shower of glass littered the hotel room. Kotano rose from the floor wearily, too tired and upset to fathom what she had done, only grateful that the silence had been broken, and her trance with it.   
  
She stepped through the glass, unheeding to the sharp pains that pierced her bare feet. In the morning, she would need to visit the doctor, the soles of her feet would be scared for life…but tonight that did not matter. All that mattered was holding onto Okura, despite the consequences. Kotano opened the mini-bar, and opened a small, ridiculously priced bottle of brandy. The amber liquid burned her already sore throat, but again, it did not matter. It simply did not matter. Nothing mattered…except Okura.  
  
"I want to become the wind," Okura breathed as he ran in an unknown direction, towards an unknown destination. Nothing mattered to Okura but the wind caressing his cheek, as soft as a lover, as strong as a tidal wave, as unstoppable as a God. Here Okura felt safe, felt protected by the rustling wind that had become his life. A force so powerful, yet invisible, yet capable of mass destruction. Okura worshipped the wind as others worshiped a God, for to Okura the wind was the highest power. Unstoppable. Unbeatable. Unsurpassable.   
  
"I used to be the wind," he mused while running," I used to be unstoppable, unbeatable, unsurpassable…until Magnussen." Okura spat out his name like bitter medicine, it burned his throat like a shot of hard liquor. "Magnussen…"  
  
"Shit!" Okura cursed. He had fallen, and now lay sprawled on the cold, hard pavement. Stars sparkled above Okura, both in the sky and before his eyes.  
  
"I'm losing it," He muttered, and struggled to stand up. Unbeknownst to Okura, his legs had simply given out on him, and he was out of breath and energy. Dimly Okura remembered running out on Kotano, but little before or after that.  
  
"She's probably worried about me," He pondered, but dismissed the thought. Kotano worried about little other than her appearance or her career. Vaguely he remembered running through the streets and parks of Los Angeles, but nothing permanent or significant stood out in his mind. He glanced at the area around him, and realised with a panic that he was lost. Completely and utterly lost.   
  
"Idiot," He cursed to himself. How could he be so stupid? How could he be so dumb as to become lost in this huge city? A city that he was unaccustomed to, where he did not have enough money for a cab, where he could not speak the language…  
  
"I am so stupid!" Okura searched the pockets of his shorts for money, and looked with a grimace at the odd assortment of foreign coins. He recognised the larger, silver coin with the engraving of an eagle, and began to search for a pay phone.   
  
"Where the hell am I?" Okura wondered. This was a very different area of town from the richer area of where he was accustomed. Litter lined the streets, suspicious individuals roamed the streets, and the buildings were in disrepair. Many of the streetlights were without power, so the streets were dimmer and darker than the other areas of the city. Shadows played rampant on Okura's mind; everything that moved was a threat. He had heard much about the poor condition of American streets, ghettos they called them. He had heard the stories of rape, muggings, murders, drugs, prostitution, and all of these stories came to haunt him as he began to run again, mindless of his aching body.  
  
The images of a laughing, jeering Magnussen with a gold medal around his neck, crept into his consciousness. Okura ran harder to escape, but Magnussen was faster. Okura could simply not outrun him; Magnussen was fast, too fast…  
  
"I have to get out of here, I have to escape…" Okura sped up, the streets becoming a blur, but he could not outrun his growing panic, could not outrun Magnussen…  
  
"Hey, honey, looking for a good time?" A half-drunk, scantily clad woman called to the departing Okura. From the distance, Okura heard her loud, drunken laughter and the laughter of her fellow whores. Although Okura understood little English, her message was loud and clear.  
  
"Please, Lord, help me…"Suddenly exhaustion came over Okura, and he became aware of his aching lungs, ribs and sides. He crumpled to the ground and held his shaking body. His head hurt; he felt like he was about to pass out…but not in this alley! Not in this godforsaken alley where he would be left defenceless against the thugs that lined the streets like vultures. "Please," he pleaded, now he was crying. Okura, Japan's Golden Boy, the hope of his nation, reduced to a desperate, sobbing man alone in an alley. No. It could not end this way for him. It could not…  
  
"Tenou-san? Tenou Okura-san? Is that you?" Called a voice from above him. Strange that Okura could understand this voice, could this person be Japanese?  
  
"Tenou-san! Answer me, Tenou-san!"  
  
Okura lifted his heavy head, and gazed into the anxious face of a young man who looked vaguely familiar. Light brown eyes, longish brown hair, small moustache…a forgettable face, but surely he looked familiar…  
  
"Who…"he groaned, confused as to why this man was bending over him, helping him rise from the cold, dirty pavement. The man supported the dizzy Okura against his shoulder.  
  
"Oh, Tenou-san, I'm not surprised that you don't recognise me," the man answered, blushing. I'm Eguchi Tetsui. I work for Fukuda-san, as a messenger. Pleased to meet you." Eguchi bowed, and then almost lost hold of Okura. He apologized rapidly, but Okura's mind was too tired to process what this fidgety man was saying.  
  
Okura allowed the blustering, embarrassed man to lead him towards his large black car, and place him in the back seat. He knew he was safe with Eguchi, for Fukuda was his manager. Okura inhaled the expensive car smell, and lay his aching head on the soft, firm headrest of the seat. Dimly he heard the exited, anxious voice of Eguchi, but Okura could not make out what the nervous man was saying. How Eguchi had found him in the middle of a Los Angeles ghetto was anyone's guess. Okura was just grateful that he came along when he did. Otherwise…  
  
"Tenou-san? I'll just be driving us to Fukuda-san's hotel suite…Tenou-san? Is everything alright…do you need anything to drink…do you want me to call your wife…do you want me to…  
  
"I'll just rest my eyes…"Okura whispered, enjoying the feel of the smooth leather against his sweaty face, the feel of the interior against his back, the pleasant cool of the air-conditioner. "Just for a moment…"  
  
"Tenou-san? Did you say something? Do you need anything? Tenou-san? Tenou-san?" The voice slowly faded away, and all that Okura could hear was the steady, pleasant hum of the air-conditioning.  
  
Okura closed his eyes, just for a moment-and drifted off into unconsciousness…  
  
To be continued… (I forgot to write this after my last segment…hope I didn't confuse anyone. By the way, this story is a work in progress, in case anyone is wondering. I'll get to Haruka soon enough…just want to establish a mood) 


	3. The Sins Of The Father 3

The figure of a broken woman lay sprawled across the large bed, not quite awake, not quite asleep, but somewhere in between. The window was open; a slight breeze blew across the room, rustling her long blond hair. Her slight, scantily clad body shook slightly from what might have been the cool breeze, but a glance at her face proved otherwise.  
  
Her beautiful face was pale, and streaked with the residue of tears. Her lips were a sharp contrast to her face; bright, almost blood red. Her eyes were half shut and surrounded in shadows, but her irises were bright, impossibly bright, and shimmering with fresh tears. Her lavender lingerie lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, discarded. She was clothed in nothing but her lace panties; her breasts ached with longing for her beloved…but he had not returned to her. Okura had not returned.  
  
Marubeni Kotano sighed, burying her face in the pillow, streaking it with her tears. She wanted to sleep, dammit, why couldn't she fall asleep?  
  
"Please," she sobbed, clenching the blanket in one slender hand tightly, her other hand grasping her chest.  
  
"Please, let me sleep," she begged, "Oh, Lord, please let me sleep!I just want to forget, even for a moment, please…" Kotano whimpered, desperation taking control over her. Images of Okura, distorted from brandy, were flooding her mind.   
  
She remembered the day they first met; at twenty-one, the beautiful, golden-haired Okura stepping into the café as if from a dream…their eyes had met from across the room, his a mixture of dark blue and grey, hers the colour of a glacial lake. She had been wearing a sleeveless blue gown that day; a dress that hugged her breasts and hips, yet flowed around her legs freely. Her hair had been loose, white-blond, platinum, and reaching her waist. She had been sixteen at the time, the perfect age for falling in love.   
  
"Please, stop," she cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, but the memories lingered behind her eyelids…  
  
Tenou Okura had walked over to her table without hesitation, grasped her hand, kissed her palm, and declared that he wanted to be with her. If any other man had done such a ridiculous thing, Kotano would have laughed and smacked his hand away; even at sixteen Kotano was an experienced woman when it came to men; but she had only smiled at the reincarnation of a Greek God, blushed, and accepted his proposal. Okura was not an ordinary man by any stretch of the imagination. She had been ready for romance, had been waiting for so long for the perfect man…and she had foolishly believed that Okura was this man.   
  
Kotano thought that this had been the gesture of a man hopelessly in love; in truth, it had been a gesture of possession.  
  
"…Because he was beautiful," Kotano sobbed, "I thought he was the ideal man because he was beautiful, and talented, and famous…Oh, God! Why, why did I have to fall in love with him, why?"  
  
But Kotano knew why. Even if she did not entirely understand the reason, she knew why she had fallen in love with Okura. It wasn't just because he was beautiful, and it wasn't because he had been her first lover (he hadn't); it was because he intrigued her. He was a mystery to her; he was not like other men. Not just because he was older, for she could reduce any man, young or old, into a slobbering, stupid beast; though his maturity had certainly been a deciding factor. Other men were simple and predictable; despite age, despite education, despite social standing, all men had one thing in common. Their lives were ruled by their peckers, whereas Okura was controlled by his determination to be immortalized.   
  
In the beginning, Okura's quest for godliness had been awe-inspiring. His dreams had so much depth: his mission, his determination, and his drive. When he spoke, when he really spoke what was on his mind, she listened, and felt as if she was his only confident; the only one he trusted. Okura made her feel important; she felt worthy to be his audience, and she respected him for it. Respect, the highest possible praise that Kotano could give; over passion, over love! Kotano had finally found a man she could respect. She had fallen in love with Okura because of his depth, and because she could respect him.   
  
How naïve Kotano had been.   
  
Okura may have been passionate about his quest, but this passion did not overlap into his love. When he kissed her, when he made love to her, Okura never closed his eyes. Ever. He was always in control. Okura was a harsh lover, a selfish lover who filled his desires over his partners and never considered her needs. His lovemaking always left Kotano unfulfilled, and feeling somewhat empty inside. Yet when it was over, instead of quenching her longing, it increased. After he exited her, Kotano would hold her body, her body that ached for love and tenderness. Okura never stroked her hair, he never caressed her cheek, and he never smiled, or teased, or simply held her. To Okura, sex was like clocking for work; just in and out. Kotano wanted to be played like a violin; he used her body as a pinball machine. All Kotano wanted were soft words and caresses, gentle touches and petting. All she wanted was for Okura to tell her that he loved her…  
  
Okura's depth, his mystique, his distance…the qualities that caused Kotano to love him became the qualities that caused Kotano so much grief. She had wanted a man different from all the others; now she wished desperately that Okura was more like other men. But it was too late for Kotano. She was in too deep to back out now. He owned her, body and soul, and there was no going back.   
  
  
  
"Whether I like it or not…I belong to Okura. I cannot simply deny my feelings towards him. I have given him too much of myself to leave him. I am bound to him…for as long as I live."  
  
She stepped over to the window, ignoring the flashing pains on the soles of her feet, and looked out at the sky above. Okura was out there, somewhere.  
  
"Please return to me, my love…" she called softly into the night.  
  
*****  
  
The jostling of the car woke Okura from his rest. Pain flashed before his eyes as the back of his head collided with the window. He groaned, then let out a low stream of curses.  
  
"What the…"he muttered incoherently, not completely aware of where he was, or of what had happened. He dimly remembered yelling at Kotano, then leaving, and then running…after that, all was a blur.  
  
"Tenou-san? Tenou-san? Are you awake?" asked a slightly panicky voice from ahead of him, apparently the driver of the car.  
  
" Uh, I think," Okura replied groggily. He just needed a minute to clear his head, to grasp a hold on his situation. He remembered collapsing, and a small framed man helping him into his car…the driver?  
  
Suddenly, the car door was opened, and a small, dark haired appeared. The man smiled, his pale face flushed with colour. Okura recognised the man as the one who had found him. Eguchi, he was called.   
  
"Tenou-san! You've awoken! Thank goodness!" Eguchi exclaimed to the rather baffled Okura. Then, Eguchi seemed to do a double take. "Oh, Tenou-san! You've hurt yourself! Your head…oh, because of my bad driving! Please, let me help you out, just take my hand…"   
  
The flustered Eguchi frantically tried to help Okura out of the car, but Okura resisted. He was still somewhat confused. Why was this strange man making such a fuss over him? What…  
  
"Oh, Tenou-san, Fukuda will be so angry with me, as that I have harmed his prize athlete before his big race…please, forgive me!"   
  
"Oh, sure…" Okura replied, in bemusement. He got out of the car without the assistance of Eguchi. Dimly he remembered what had happened the last time the man had tried to assist him.   
  
The car had stopped in front of a large, high-class, multi-story hotel. This was the hotel where Fukuda, his manager, was staying in. Now Okura remembered where Eguchi was taking them, but he could not remember why.  
  
The sky was lighter than before; when Okura had been running, the sky was pitch black.   
  
"How late is it?" wondered Okura absently. "How long was I running for?"   
  
When Okura ran, he lost all sense of time and distance; there was only himself and the wind. He was lost in his own world, where nothing could hurt him, where nothing mattered but the feeling of the wind alongside him…  
  
Okura stepped away from the car and leaned against the building as he watched Eguchi hand the keys of the car to the valet. His head was killing him, he felt dizzy, as if he had had the wind knocked out of him…   
  
"Eguchi?"asked Okura as the small man closed and locked the car door, "How, how did you find me? How did you know I was lost?  
  
"Why, Fukuda-san told me, sir. Fukuda-san, he phoned me, and told me to look for you, that you had gone missing."  
  
"That asshole Fukuda knows everything," Okura thought, somewhat angrily. Fukuda was always on top of everything. Nothing slipped past that slick bastard.   
  
"Oh," replied Okura, wondering how in the hell Fukuda had found out. He could not remember talking to his manager after he had left the apartment, and he knew that Fukuda had not been in the apartment when he had run off… "Did Fukuda tell you how he found out I was missing?"  
  
Eguchi frowned. "Oh, no, Tenou-san. I do not ask Fukuda-san questions; he is my superior. It is not my job to ask questions…"  
  
"It's not mine either," Okura muttered, annoyed that he still did not know what was going on. He was not in the mood for a lecture from his manager. All he wanted was to sleep, to rest his head on a soft pillow, to have a cool drink, to…  
  
"Fukuda-san, he told me to bring you right to him. He said that he needed to discuss a very important business matter with you, Tenou-san. He seemed rather upset that you had disappeared." Eguchi's voice penetrated through Okura's thoughts.   
  
"Oh, OK. Did he say anything else, Eguchi? Okura asked.  
  
"Well, uh, yes, he did. Fukuda-san said that if I didn't find you, that he was going to…going to…to shit himself." Eguchi blushed furiously.  
  
" Yeah, that sounds like good old Fukuda, alright," Okura sighed. This was not the information that he had been hoping for.   
  
With a sigh, Okura followed Eguchi into the posh hotel, into the elevator, and into a large suite of rooms. Although Okura was not looking forward to seeing his manager's bloated, pissed off face, he prepared himself for the inevitable. There was no avoiding Fukuda, or the inevitable confrontation that he had been dreading ever since he had lost the 800m race to that damned Swede Magnussen the previous morning. With the resignation of a pig preparing for the slaughterhouse, Okura braced himself for the meeting with Fukuda.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued…  
  
{Sorry for the length…I didn't expect the segment about Haruka's parents to be so long…but it is an important part of the rest of the story. I'll get to Haruka soon…since this is a "sins of the father" story; the past is the base for the future of the story.}  
  
P.S. Thank-you for the feedback! If you have any comments, suggestions, death-threats, whatever, my email address is micheruk@hotmail.com 


	4. The Sins Of The Father 4

{Reader beware: this is some serious shit!}  
  
Around the same time that Okura was running from the laughter of the drunken whore, Kotano was awakened from her trance by the persistent ringing of the phone.   
  
"The hell?" she asked, annoyed. Although Kotano was unaware of the current hour, judging by the darkness of the sky, it was late. Sighing, Kotano left the balcony and entered the hotel room.  
  
She winced with every step, forgetting the pieces of glass embedded in her feet. Kotano moved through the house in dreamlike state, memories of the evening blurred and insipid. Dimly she wondered why the large mirror lay in pieces on the floor, and why there was a trail of blood behind her. The alcohol had not only numbed her feelings, but her body as well.   
  
The phone lay on the coffee table, the ringing shrill and consistent. Kotano checked the wall clock; it was twenty past twelve.  
  
"Who could be calling at this hour? Who has this number?" (Okura…)  
  
Okura! He still hadn't returned! Shit! He had left hours ago…he was all alone; all alone; all alone…  
  
In the city, a city full of dangerous criminals, where there were muggings, murders…and Okura was lost in the midst of it. Okura, her distant lover, who spoke no English, who was unfamiliar with the layout of the city, who became lost in his own world so easily…  
  
Okura lying in the street somewhere, hurt, (dying) in pain, (dying) covered in (blood) … (bloody, so bloody and broken dead dead dead left for dead all alone leaving her all alone)  
  
Suddenly Kotano was knocked out of her trance with the force of a sledgehammer, with the realisation that Okura had not returned, and something could have happened to him…  
  
It could be the police, who had either found Okura or calling for her to identify the body of her beloved…Kotano grasped the receiver in her hand as if it were a lifeline.   
  
"Hello, Marubeni here," answered Kotano breathlessly, fearing the worse.  
  
"Kotano," the voice on the telephone replied, "This is Fukuda. I need to speak with Tenou, immediately."  
  
"Fukuda-san," she grimaced. Kotano hated her lover's manager: his beady eyes, his rasping voice, and his gaze that undressed every woman in passing without shame, as if they were his property… Kotano really hated that fucker.  
  
  
  
"I need to speak to him. Now." He spoke with poorly concealed frustration.   
  
"He's not here." Kotano replied.  
  
There was a moment of silence, then "What did you say?"  
  
"He's not here. Okura left, I don't know, maybe four, five hours ago…"  
  
"What?!" he erupted, in shock and extreme anger. "No, I mean, why..., how…" he stuttered. If the situation had not been so serious, the thought of Fukuda at a loss for words would have been comical.  
  
"He's gone. He left in a fit of temper…he was very upset about the 800m and, well, I….I don't know where he went…"  
  
"You don't know where he went….and I only found out about this now…because I phoned you…what the hell is wrong with you? What the … hell … is … wrong … with you?"  
  
Kotano sighed, and rested her head against the wall. She was beginning to get over the buzz of the brandy; the hangover, which threatened to be enormous, began to rear its ugly head.   
  
"The biggest race of his career is tomorrow, no, today, and you don't know where he is? You've been sitting on your ass for FIVE …FUCKING …HOURS…and you don't know where he is? You haven't called the police, or me, or…done fucking…fucking anything?"  
  
"Fukuda is such a rude, insensitive pig," Kotano mused, wondering why his voice seemed so distant when in reality it was loud enough to echo throughout the hotel room. She really wished that he would shut up already.   
  
"…Kotano? Kotano! Answer me! Exactly what time did Tenou leave, and in which direction?" Fukuda's voice penetrated through her thoughts.   
  
Kotano sighed; it was hard for her to focus with the size of her headache/hangover.   
  
"Kotano, dammit, answer me…"  
  
"He left at around seven…but I don't know what direction…he probably didn't know either…"  
  
"Ok. So Okura's been missing for over five hours, and you have no idea where…Kotano, are you listing to me?" (Kotano mumbled something incoherent) "This is what I'm going to do. I'm sending some men out to look for him, all over the city, and hopefully, one of them will find Tenou. You are going to stay right where you are until I send someone over to pick you up. Do you understand? Kotano?"  
  
"Yes, I understand. Goodbye," Kotano hung up the phone in relief. Talking to Fukuda always left her with a splitting headache, and on top of the brandy…  
  
She grimaced as a wave of nausea washed over her, and rushed to the toilet. Tiredly she vomited until she was completely empty of all food, and all emotion. This night had been an incredibly emotional night for the poor girl…all because of Okura.  
  
She should have hated him, but instead all she felt was a familiar longing deep in her chest, an almost physical pain.  
  
"Pain, that's all he puts me through, everlasting pain…"  
  
Things would be different after they married, wouldn't they? Yes, of course they would. Okura would settle down, give up his damned racing, finish college, get a good job as a layer, and make partner in a few years; a very promising future.  
  
"If only he would agree to giving up his racing, though I don't think he ever will. Even though there is a plan for us to become engaged, I'm not sure if he will stick to the bargain…"   
  
The fear that Okura would leave her had always haunted her, but after tonight it had gained control over Kotano, replacing the practical aspect of her mind. The fear of rejection was so great that it had clouded her judgement. Kotano had a premonition that their lives were about to change drastically after this last race. She did not know why, or how, but she feared that this great change would have a drastic effect on their relationship.   
  
Kotano knew what she had to do. It was a risky step; it would mean the end, or at least a large pause, in her career. It would mean a lifelong commitment. It would mean betraying Okura's trust in her. It would mean the end of their lives as they knew them…but Kotano was willing to make these sacrifices. The end always justified the means for Kotano. She would not lose him. No matter how high the consequences.  
  
She got off the floor, her feet screaming in agony, her head pounding, her stomach protesting, but somehow Kotano was able to stand up and reach for the shelf where she kept her toiletries and other hygienic products. Finding what she was looking for, Kotano returned to the toilet and emptied the contents of the small package into its depths. The sound of the flush vibrated throughout the entire room. There was no going back for Kotano, no, now she had made her decision, and had taken the necessary action. The flush of the toilet somehow made the decision final; there was no going back…   
  
*****  
  
  
  
Okura followed Eguchi into the vast suite that served as Fukuda's portable office. Against the cream coloured wall lay a large, mahogany desk and a serious looking steel file cabinet. Behind the desk there was a huge, bay window that looked out to the city; a staggering view, as the suite was on the twentieth floor. Before the desk stood a series of chairs. The desk was covered in files and papers. Three telephones were set up on Fukuda's desk as well. The office looked as if it had been in use for years, and not only two weeks.   
  
Okura sat in the chair farthest from the desk, while Eguchi waited patiently before the door like a dog awaiting his master.  
  
"Wonder where the hell he is," Okura thought. It was typical of Fukuda to make his clients wait until he made his grand entrance, but it was still damned annoying.  
  
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard outside the office. The steps continued to rise in volume, as the figure grew closer, then stopped. Fukuda stood in the doorway, his custom scowl in place.  
  
*****  
  
Fukuda had the appearance of a wrestler who was beginning to run to fat. Although his girth was huge, the strong outlines of muscles still remained buried under flab. Fukuda was a large man, standing well over six feet and weighing close to 300 pounds. His face was unlined except for heavy, Nixon-type jowls and deep lines between his eyebrows. His hair was thick and plentiful, dark brown but for his greying temples. His exact age was unknown, but judging from his appearance, Fukuda appeared to be entering his early fifties.   
  
Fukuda had been a linebacker in high school, and had gone pro for several years as an exchange student for an American team after winning a University scholarship. After playing for the University of Georgia for three years, he graduated, and was accepted to play in the NFL, for the Dallas Cowboys. Fukuda had never been an extraordinary player, but was a good, solid addition to the team. He stayed with the team for seven years, until a particularly bad play left him with a trick knee. The injury would not affect his everyday life, but rendered him unable to play football. Fukuda returned to Japan with a degree in business, a ten-year career in professional football, and a vast array of knowledge of the world behind the scenes of professional sports. Fukuda possessed a keen intelligence, a head for figures and a stubborn, take no shit attitude. He set up to become an agent for athletes, financed his own practice, and the rest was history. After twenty years in the business, Fukuda was the toughest, most respected, feared and top of the line agent in the field of athletics.   
  
Although Tenou wasn't Fukuda's only client involved in the 1984 Olympics, he was his most important. Tenou Okura was his next big star; the kid had it in him to be the greatest athlete of his generation. But for all of Tenou's talent, the kid had the sense that God gave an insect. Sure, Tenou was smart enough when it came to schoolwork, but he had no real understanding of the world around him. Tenou had no comprehension of business, of the media or the industry. He did not understand the importance of public opinion, or how to draw upon the masses. Tenou was not simple-minded, but his basic understanding of politics could only be described as nominal.   
  
Tenou was a man who believed that ability and talent were all that one needed to succeed. Of course, nothing could be farther from the truth. True, talent and ability were needed to win the races, but they did not sell on their own. Just why Tenou was a famous name the world over was because of the persistent and constant efforts of Fukuda to broadcast his image.   
  
When Fukuda had first met Tenou, he was impressed by his natural abilities, nurtured without formal training. This boy was as fast as the wind; he was simply amazing. Fukuda had seen Tenou race at a high school event 8 years before, when he had been only fifteen. The reason why Fukuda was in attendance was because he was interested in recruiting a young basketball star that was beginning to make a name for himself; but it was not the basketball that took Fukuda's interest. The Tenou boy, what talent! What incredible talent! Bonus: he was easy on the eyes, and had a powerful charisma about him.   
  
Fukuda approached the youth that day, and offered the young man the chance of a lifetime. Fukuda would be his agent, and provide the young Tenou with a personal trainer. He would also handle the publicity, the contracts, the legal issues, everything. All it would cost Tenou was his devotion-and one half of all profits.  
  
Tenou Okura, being only fifteen and hardly a man of the world, agreed immediately. The offer was too good to be true; his dreams would come true, he would be famous, a champion! The issue of money meant nothing for the boy, for, after all, he had no money of his own at the time, and had no idea on the profits at hand. He accepted the deal without a second thought.  
  
Fukuda set to work immediately to train the boy, and find him a benefactor. For Tenou's personal trainer, Fukuda hired Olympic gold medallist Kagawa Ryoko, a personal favourite. This man, although out of competition for forty years, was an excellent coach who always came out with results. Tenou bonded immediately with his coach, and made steady progress. Although Kagawa was costing Fukuda a fortune, to him it was a worthwhile expense. With each practice, Tenou grew faster and faster until he was able to clock times only reached by record-holding athletes. A worthwhile investment, Fukuda thought.  
  
Finding a benefactor would have to wait until Tenou got recognition, so as soon as Kagawa pronounced the boy ready, Fukuda began to enter him in competitions. The results were amazing; Tenou won every race he participated in! His name began to become known in the world in sports, and it was at this time that Fukuda found him a sponsor.  
  
In Osaka, Hira-Numa was the biggest name in sport and auto equipment. So fitting that they would accept Fukuda's offer and become the official sponsor of Tenou Okura. The money they contributed towards the boy's career was significant, so as Tenou gained in popularity, Fukuda was able to finance an advertising campaign to send Tenou to the 1984 Olympics-which was still four years away.  
  
At this period of time, Tenou was nineteen years of age and just beginning his first year at the University of Osaka, financed by athletic scholarship. The advertising campaign was effective; people from all around the city began to come to Tenou's athletic meets, and his popularity was steadily increasing. At nineteen, Tenou Okura was breathtakingly handsome: tall, bronzed, dark blond hair and deep blue/grey eyes. Girls went crazy over him-which Fukuda used to his advantage.   
  
Everything was going perfectly for the young Tenou-but Fukuda was still not satisfied. Although Tenou had a devout following in Osaka, Fukuda wanted his name to be known countrywide. In order for this to happen, Tenou needed to be featured on television. This way, his image would be broadcast to people from all around Japan-and beyond. But how to generate public interest in a University runner? Enter Marubeni Kotano.  
  
Fukuda knew that the fastest way to media attention was to have a relationship with a celebrity-it was almost a given that the object of the celebrity's attention would get media exposure. So Fukuda set upon himself the task for finding the perfect match for Tenou.  
  
Although Fukuda was a big name in the business, he had no connection with any celebrities other than athletes. Fukuda wanted a bigger name for Tenou, though, a name linked to the entertainment industry. So he began to contact the agents of celebrities. He was able to find a small agency that specialized centrally on modeling. One of the agents suggested his client, one Marubeni Kotano. Marubeni was an up-and-coming sensation; half Danish, half Japanese, who was beginning to take the fashion industry by storm. Her unique appearance, her charisma, her mannerisms had made her into somewhat of a celebrity. She had connections with famous actors, directors and fashion designers, and her name was synonymous with success.  
  
So Fukuda decided that she would be the one to draw attention to Tenou. He encouraged Tenou to strike up a conversation with her in a café that she was known to frequent. Everything was planned; Tenou visited the café everyday until he saw Kotano. He simply walked towards her, asked her out, and she accepted. Poor Kotano, she thought that Tenou was in love with her. She never found out that their entire relationship had been the idea of Fukuda, and that she was only a tool to gain recognition for Tenou.  
  
Poor Kotano, poor girl who thought that Tenou really loved her, that their first meeting had been kismet! Poor, ignorant, stupid girl. Fukuda supposed that he should be grateful towards the girl, but gratitude was not in Fukuda's vocabulary. Women were nothing to him but ornaments, which was how he perceived Kotano. She was nothing but eye candy, another medal around Tenou's neck. Her wants and needs were unimportant and not even considered by Fukuda. He may have been a heartless bastard, but to Fukuda, nothing much mattered other than money and fame. He had been called worse names in his life; the typical one being whoremaster. What one woman thought of him was irrelevant. He worked for himself and himself alone.   
  
*****  
  
Fukuda stepped into his office with the solemn grace of a President, despite his massive girth. Without acknowledging Eguchi's presence, Fukuda sat behind his large desk and began to shuffle through his papers. Eguchi took the hint and left the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
"Fukuda-san," began Okura awkwardly, but one glance from Fukuda shut him up. Okura looked nervously out the window, not knowing how to respond to his manager's cold guise. Okura had expected Fukuda to be angry, to be screaming and hurling insults faster than Okura could process them. Yet Fukuda remained strangely silent. This frightened Okura; he had thought that he could read his manager like a book. His silence came as an unexpected, and unnerving, surprise.  
  
"Tenou Okura," began Fukuda solemnly, "We have been planning your career for many years. Am I not correct?"  
  
Sweat dripped down Okura's shirt. "Uh, yuh-yuh-yes, Fukuda-san.  
  
Fukuda had chosen his words carefully; they had the impact of a bullet, "So, Tenou, why did you deliberately set out to ruin your chances for tomorrow's, no, today's race?"  
  
"I…what? What are you…I, I…"   
  
"Yes, Tenou. You have almost certainly sabotaged your chances of winning this race. It is now four o'clock in the morning. Your race begins at twelve noon; you need to arrive at the stadium at least three hours in advance. So, if you were to fall asleep immediately, and arrive at the stadium exactly after you woke up…so, if you were to do this…you would be left with five hours to sleep. Five hours! Not to mention that you have exhausted yourself by running around for god knows how many hours…and you'll probably be sick…to make a long story short, you've fucked yourself over. Royally."  
  
  
  
"I…"Okura stuttered, then fell silent. It was true. He had fucked up. Fukuda was completely right; there was nothing left for Okura to say.   
  
"So, Okura, how does it feel? How does it feel to sabotage your own career? I thought that you wanted success, that you wanted to be immortalized…that you wanted your fucking face on the Wheaties box…do you really believe that you are immune to failure? I think that your success had gone to your head; you really think you are invincible."  
  
"I…"  
  
"But wait, I'm not quite right. You see, Tenou, I think that this last race opened your eyes. It made you realise that you are not invincible, that you are indeed capable of failure. And you couldn't take it, could you? It was too much of a shock…so you fled. You were scared, Tenou, scared shitless…so you ran away, like you always do. Like a goddamned sissy, you ran away, and in the process, eliminated what chances you had of winning the next race. Tenou Okura, you are a coward."  
  
Fukuda's words stung Okura deeply. They were so cruel, and so hateful…but at the same time, Okura was able to recognise their truth. Okura wanted to scream, to shout, and to protest at the top of his lungs…but he was unable to. Fukuda had been exactly on target. He had thought himself invincible; he had thought himself incapable of failure. And Okura was a coward. He was always running away from his fears. Always had been, and probably always would.  
  
"So, Tenou, what do you say to that?" Asked Fukuda cruelly, an angry smirk on his face.  
  
"I…I…" Okura stuttered, speechless.  
  
"As I expected, you're at a loss for words. But that's all right, Tenou, because I don't want to hear your half-assed excuses. I want you to listen, Tenou, and listen well. You will go to the stadium today, and you will compete. Even if you're sick, even if you're fucking dying…I want you there. And I want you to give this race everything you've got-even if it kills you. Have you got that?  
  
"Yes," Okura replied, defeated. He would listen to Fukuda. He would do everything Fukuda said. Everything was his fault. First to lose the race, and then to go running off and ruining any chance he had of winning the 1 500m.  
  
"Good. I want you to wait here until I come back with your girlfriend. We still have one more thing to discuss-and we need her here to do so.  
  
"Where is she, anyways?" Okura asked with disinterest. He had not given Kotano much thought since he ran out on her.  
  
  
  
"Would you believe this, on top of everything else, that stupid bitch managed to break a mirror and end up with pieces of glass stuck in her feet." Fukuda laughed darkly. "This stupid bitch apparently just stepped in it, and disregarded it. She was so messed up that she didn't even notice that her feet were bleeding…Jeez, what a night. Anyways, I sent Hagiwargi out to get her, and he found her lying on the floor in a fucking bathrobe…bleeding…and passed out. He brought her to the hospital, where she had the glass surgically removed."  
  
"Oh," Okura replied as if Fukuda had said she went shopping.  
  
"Well, she's due to arrive in twenty minutes or so. I got a call from Hagiwargi a few minutes ago. They're on their way over. She's apparently alright, although it seems that your girl won't be able to go dancing for a while…" Fukuda laughed, a disgusting, rasping laugh that turned into a fit of coughing. He reached into the breast pocket of his expensive, tailored suit and came up with a huge cigar and a monogrammed lighter. He lit it unconsciously, with the grace and ease of a veteran.   
  
"So, Tenou, I'm going to leave you here for a few minutes so you can process what I just said. I'll be back in twenty, thirty minutes, whenever Hagiwargi comes back with that bitch." Fukuda rose to his feet, "Think long and hard, Tenou. I want you to understand just how badly you fucked up." With those final words, Fukuda left Okura.  
  
Okura sighed and buried his head in his hands. Just two days ago, everything had been so perfect…the speed of change was unbelievable.  
  
"What am I going to do?" Okura cried out, his desperate words echoing throughout the room. "Oh, Lord, what can I do? I'm bound to lose…lose…lose…everything! Everything I've dreamed of, everything that I've worked so hard towards…over!"  
  
Okura was irrational, of course. Fukuda's words had left him feeling weak, pathetic…and irrational. Even if he did not place in the 1 500 race, one silver and three gold medals were still an amazing triumph. Sure, the loss would hurt his career, but not cripple it. There were still other events, other races, other Olympic games, even. But to Okura, this defeat, this failure…was the end for him. He was unable to see beyond these events, to rationalize; his mind was in shock, he was incapable of reasonable thinking. Failure…all Okura could see was his failure…nothing beyond.  
  
"Oh, Lord, I have failed! I have gone down in defeat…I" Okura's desperate ramblings were interrupted by the sound of the door opening.   
  
Desperately, Okura swung his gaze, and to his amazement, he saw the little Eguchi standing in the doorway. Eguchi smiled at Okura nervously, and stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. What the little shit was doing here was beyond Okura. All Okura knew was that Eguchi was invading his personal space, he was a witness to the Great Tenou Okura's breakdown…and this infuriated him.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing here?!" Okura shouted, not caring that his voice was shaking, that it could probably be heard by anyone beyond the office, beyond the hotel.  
  
"Please, Tenou-san, I…" he stuttered helplessly, and continued to advance towards Okura.  
  
"Get out! Get the hell out! Just…get…the…HELL...out…"   
  
"Please, Tenou-san, please just listen to me…"Eguchi continued, tears in his large eyes, his voice breaking…but still he would not leave.   
  
This determination, the courage to advance towards the homicidal Okura was what convinced him to listen. If Eguchi was so desperate to be heard…Okura would be damned if he knew what the little shit was going to say…but Eguchi's determination won Okura over. He would give him an audience.  
  
"Alright, I'll listen. Just… make it quick," Okura replied, and then sighed. This day, no these two days…they were really doing a number on him.   
  
Eguchi proceeded forward, until he stood before Okura. He went down on his knees, and gazed into Okura's eyes. This gesture surprised Okura. Eguchi looked as if he were before a priest at confession-or about to propose.  
  
For some reason this cracked Okura up; he laughed until he just about shit himself. A release of nervous tension, or something along those lines. Eguchi looked at Okura with a mix of surprise and fear.   
  
"Sorry…"gasped Okura, "Don't know what came over me…" The laughter stopped as suddenly as it had started. Okura wondered vaguely if he was going insane.  
  
Hesitantly, Eguchi continued to speak after Okura settled down.   
  
"Thank-you, Tenou-san, for taking the time to listen. I know that you are upset…I know what happened yesterday…and I have come to you to help."  
  
"You? Help me?" Okura replied in astonishment. "What the hell could you do to help me?"  
  
Eguchi smiled, shyly. "Oh, Tenou-san, I am not offended by your disbelief. Of course you are wondering what such a lowly being as myself could do to benefit a man as great as you. I tell you, though, Tenou-san, I can help!"  
  
Okura smirked. "OK, so you think you can help me. With what? Can you delay the race? Can you kill that huge fuck Magnussen? Can you help me win this race…"Okura trailed off as Eguchi nodded.   
  
"Yes, I believe I can." The statement was calm, proud, strong…delivered with a force that shut Okura's trap.  
  
"You see, Tenou-san, I have admired you for years, ever since I saw you compete at the Junior Varsity Championships. You probably don't recognise me, but I was a classmate of yours, many years ago. I have always looked up to you, not just because of your skills as a runner, but for your determination and drive. I have always faced uncertainties regarding my path in life…and to witness a man as confident in his dreams and future as you, Tenou-san…It gave me a feeling akin to worship. Don't look at me that way, Tenou-san. That is not what I am implying…I just mean that I admired how you took life by the horns, and followed your dream, against all odds…"  
  
"But look at me now!" Okura interrupted passionately, "Just look at the mess I'm in now! I am no longer confident in my abilities, in my future, in myself…"  
  
"Yes, you may feel this way now, Tenou-san…but you are in the midst of a crisis. When it passes, your strength will return, as will your willpower. You are destined for success, I can read it in your eyes, in your speech…it has been born into you, and there is no escaping it. Tenou Okura-san, you are destined for greatness."  
  
For some reason, Okura felt a rush of confidence return.   
  
"Strange," He mused, "why his words are comforting. What does he know of greatness…yet; I cannot help but believe him. It is true…I am destined towards greatness. I have been chosen to succeed; by a higher power, I have been blessed."  
  
"You must surmount this crisis, Tenou-san. Your following will only increase after they see how you are able to overcome your greatest threat…and emerge victorious. This is a test, Tenou-san…it is up to you to prove that you are indeed worthy."  
  
"Yes, I must win, I must triumph over this obstacle, I must regain my following…" Okura was suddenly drawn out of his epiphany.  
  
"So, I now realise that I am worthy, but how does this help me, Eguchi? How will this knowledge… be of assistance to overcome my greatest crisis?"  
  
Eguchi grinned. "Oh, thou who hath little faith! Did I not tell you that I would be able to help you?"  
  
"Yes, you did…but how? How can you offer me aid…how can you grant my conquest?"  
  
Eguchi glanced around, as if someone lurked in the shadows. He walked over to the door-and locked it. Okura watched Eguchi with a sense of rapture, as if the greatest secret of all time was to be revealed, as if Eguchi had the secret of eternal life…  
  
  
  
"Tenou-san, I thank-you for listening to my words, I thank-you for being a positive role-model for me…and I thank-you on behalf of Japan. You have given people hope, Tenou-san, you have given people inspiration, and courage, pride and I would do anything in order to protect these beliefs. So, I offer you my aid…something that will increase your speed and endurance…" Eguchi reached into his pocket and pulled from it a small box that was labelled 'Freshermint Mints'.   
  
"This is…" Okura gasped in shock as he saw the contents of the opened box.  
  
"Yes, they are performance enhancers, the solution to your dilemma. Take them, Okura…and you will succeed."  
  
"But…if I do…I will be discovered, will I not?"  
  
"You will not. Fate is on your side, Tenou-san…I am sure of it. You will be given a sign, Tenou-san, a sign from above which will prove that you are indeed the chosen one…and then you will take the contents of this box."  
  
"A sign? What? What am I looking for?" asked Okura, breathless and on the edge. He felt as if his future lay in the hands of the small prophet Eguchi.  
  
"You will not need to look for this sign…it will be obvious. Do you understand, Tenou-san? Do you understand what you must do?" Suddenly, the small man known as Eguchi spoke in a tone of commandment, of superiority. He was no longer the nervous little shit that Okura had made him out to be…indeed, Eguchi had taken the form as a forecaster.   
  
"Yes, I understand." Spoke Okura without thought, without consideration…it was if a higher power had spoken for him.  
  
"Then may you succeed, Tenou-san…" Eguchi replied, stood, and left the room in a manner dissimilar from his entrance. In just a few seconds he was gone…the speed of the revelation was astonishing. How twenty minutes could change history…  
  
Okura held the small box that seemed to weigh substantial. Was it the will of the Gods…or just the foolishness of a desperate athlete and a crazy patron? Okura was uncertain, so he decided to wait for the sign that Eguchi had told him of. Whatever that was. He would wait…and if there was a sign of providence, then he would follow Eguchi's directions. If not, then he would disregard them as hogwash. Although he was uncertain, the slight chance that Eguchi spoke the truth awakened hope within Okura. Just a chance…but still. He could emerge from the crisis…if only…   
  
How strange, how Eguchi had seemed to be so insignificant, so un-noteworthy that Okura had dismissed him without a thought…and yet, Eguchi had offered him the solution to all of his problems. The biggest crisis of his life…  
  
"He is not the same as he was…the man that offered me the result…was not the man who led me to this office."  
  
Something about the situation set off alarms in Okura's head, but he was too tired and too desperate to pay them any heed. He stroked the box containing the answer to his problems, and placed it in his pocket. When the time came…Okura would take action. Until then…  
  
*****  
  
The door to the office swung open, and Fukuda entered in his usual, arrogant stride. Clenched between his teeth was his trademark Cuban cigar. He sat behind his desk, easing his girth into the upholstered chair.  
  
"So, Tenou, have you considered our previous discussion?" He asked, stamping out the butt of his cigar in a filthy ashtray.  
  
Okura smiled. "Yes, I have. I am willing to cooperate with you, Fukuda-san. I am going to give this race everything I've got…I am not going to surrender."  
  
Fukuda smirked. "Ahh, confident, aren't we now? Well, that's good, Tenou, I'm glad that you've got your shit in gear…may I ask of the sudden change in your demeanour?" Fukuda's voice was imposing, but underneath his veneer, Fukuda was taken aback. Tenou seemed so sure of himself…twenty minutes ago he was beaten, defeated, depressed…and now he was confident.  
  
"Wonder what the hell is going through his mind," Fukuda thought, "But I guess that's Tenou for you. So caught up in his own world…probably had a forewarning, or something…" Fukuda sneered and laughed inwardly.   
  
As a man practical almost to a fault, Tenou's stupid beliefs and fantasies were beyond Fukuda's understanding. Personally, he thought Tenou was full of shit, but if that shit made him a better racer…then he was all for it.   
  
"I just gave your advice consideration, Fukuda-san," Okura replied.  
  
"And what advice was that? That you run the race of your life…or that you stop fucking yourself over?" mocked Fukuda.  
  
Okura smiled, a look of extreme faith in his eyes. He looked…as if he was able to forecast the results of the 1 500…as if he knew that he was to win.  
  
"Why, both, Fukuda-san. You were right; I have fucked up my chances, but I am willing to fight for the gold! I will give it my all…I will run until I can no longer breathe, if it is necessary. I will not go down…I will triumph!" Okura answered with passion, his eyes sparkling with hope, with courage…with the certainty of one who was convinced his words were true.  
  
Fukuda was impressed with Tenou's fervour, but remained coldly logical. However Tenou thought of himself, he was not invincible. His lack of sleep…his exhaustion…would surely hinder him. Whatever vehemence overwhelmed him, Tenou was not immune to the effects of the human body.  
  
"Let him believe," thought Fukuda. "If his faith helps him win…then so be it. Don't try to break him down; if he loses, then he will break himself. Let him be foolish…after this race, then it is your chance to knock some sense into him. If his conviction is so strong, then he may summon the strength to succeed. Willpower over matter, illogical… yet beneficial.   
  
The door opened, and a large man entered, escorting the pale figure of Marubeni Kotano. She was dressed sloppily in a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater; her hair was hastily pulled in a lose ponytail, and her feet were wrapped in bandages. Her complexion was ghostly pale; her eyes were hooded and bloodshot. She was staggering a bit, possibly the after effects of the brandy, or the anaesthetic used to ease the pain in her feet.   
  
"Ah, you've finally arrived. Thank-you for your assistance, Hagiwargi."  
  
"No problem, Fukuda-san." The large man bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him. Kotano limped rather pathetically over to Okura, who had barely acknowledged her presence.  
  
"Well, the guest of honour has finally arrived!" Exclaimed Fukuda sarcastically. "Do take a seat, my dear, you seem incapable of standing upright on your own power. Now, don't be shy, any seat will do. Why don't you sit next to Tenou, there, on the right. Yes, yes, dear, just pull up a chair and get comfortable."   
  
Kotano eased herself into the chair on Okura's right. Tears formed behind her eyelashes as Okura had not yet given her a glance, or a thought. She reached for his hand, but he ignored the gentle pressure she applied. His hand was as still and cold as a corpse's.  
  
"My, my, Kotano, but what has happened to you? Your poor little feet…but how I go on." Fukuda cut his false, concerned tone and his voice changed to his usual, take no shit attitude. "You look like shit, Kotano, like road-kill. How is it you plan to stand by your man in his finest hour looking as if you were hit by a truck? Surely, not in this state! How is it you plan to go before the public in this state?"  
  
Kotano scowled, biting back angry words. She also hated the fact that he called her by her first name, not because he liked her, but because he had no respect of any woman. Oh, how she hated Fukuda, that arrogant, spiteful sonofabitch! If she wasn't so hung over, so drugged, then Kotano probably would have spoke her mind-or sobbed like an infant. In her current condition, however, Kotano simply directed a murderous glare at Fukuda and kept silent.  
  
"Well, now that we're all together, there is a matter of importance that I must discuss with you both. As you are well aware, Tenou's last race is today-in seven hours, in fact. And as you are well aware, it is mandatory for all athletes to be in the stadium three hours before the scheduled event. So we have three hours to prepare." Fukuda paused, and swept his gaze over Tenou and his girlfriend.  
  
"What are we supposed to do?" Kotano asked impatiently. She was tired, and an emotional wreck, and desperately wanted to sleep. They had three hours, hardly enough time for meaningless conversation.  
  
"Well, my dear, that is just it. Just what can we do to salvage this situation? Not much. Frankly, we're screwed. There is no possible way to change the inevitable, so I propose that we make the best of an impossible situation. Tenou, after this meeting, you and your 'dear girlfriend' are to be driven to your hotel, where you will both progress directly to bed. No dirty looks, please, what I mean is that you will go to sleep. You will sleep for however long you need, and then will be awoken by one of my men, probably Hagiwargi. Understood?" Fukuda paused to see their initial reactions.  
  
Both nodded in unison.  
  
"Good. Anyways, when Hagiwargi arrives, I want you to get dressed. Tenou, you wear your uniform, to save changing time. Kotano, what you wear is of more importance. I want you to look ravishing, sophisticated-not like a whore who got plastered and went prancing around in broken glass. Wear something chic-don't look at me that way, dear, I know I'm not exactly a fashion expert, so I'll leave the initial decision up to you. Bring sunglasses, as well. Those bags under your eyes are most unbecoming."  
  
"So, you expect me to appear in public in my condition?" Kotano snapped. "Fukuda-san, don't you remember that I just had surgery on my feet? How am I supposed to go out in public when I can't even walk?"  
  
"But you will go out in public, and you will walk. No, don't interrupt me Kotano- just hear me out. If you were able to survive for three or more hours with the pieces of glass still in your feet, in theory you would be able to survive for the same amount of time, sitting down, for the most past, without them. Besides-you have to. If you don't appear, then the rumours will begin. Why is the beautiful, faithful, devoted lover of Tenou Okura not by his side during the greatest race of his career? And how can Tenou propose to you if you're not there? Do you see my point?"  
  
"Yes…yes, I do."  
  
"So you will be there, you will obey me?"  
  
Kotano sighed; she would do anything for Okura. "Yes, I'll be by his side, and I'll dress as you see fit."  
  
"Excellent. Now where was I before I was so rudely interrupted…ah, yes, I remember. Anyways, Hagiwargi will then drive you to the stadium, by private entrance, of course. No one should be able to see you. When we arrive, Tenou, I want you to warm up, do your post race practicing, whatever you usually do before a competition. Kotano, I have hired a top make-up artist to prepare you for your greatest role ever. Kagagawa, her name is. Kotano, during the race you will be sitting in the athlete's family section of the stadium. Try to sit in the centre; you'll get more airtime that way. Any questions? (Both shook their heads) Excellent. Now we are ready to move on to your appropriate reactions concerning the outcome of the race."  
  
Fukuda paused, and opened a drawer in his desk. A bottle of vodka appeared in his hand, and a shot glass immediately after.  
  
"Sorry, but I can't offer either of you any of this-you're already impaired enough." Fukuda poured a generous portion for himself, and downed it with a single gulp. "Ahh, that's the stuff; can't live without it, Now, as I was saying, if Okura is to win the race, as unlikely as that is, the plan will proceed as intended. Tenou will give a spectacular speech after his triumph, proposing to the woman he loves in a fit of passion…and so on. The only difference will be that Kotano cannot run into his arms…but nevertheless, the show will go on! Now, if Tenou is to lose…I want you to be humble. Both of you. Tenou, I don't want any explosions, or any waterworks…I want you to shake the winner's hand, and act proud, dammit! Kotano, I want you to be understanding and supportive-the way a proper fiancée should be. And yes, Tenou, I do want you to propose…but not right after the race. During the closing ceremony…but that's another topic; we have no time to go into details concerning that. Do either of you have any questions?"  
  
"No," both replied.  
  
"Good. Well, seeing that it's almost five in the morning…I'll be sending you off. If you have any other questions, Hagawargi will enlighten you on your way to the stadium tomorrow. Good luck, Tenou, Kotano…you'll need it." Fukuda stood up, and summoned Hagiwargi by intercom.  
  
There was a brief silence, broken by the arrival of Hagiwargi mere seconds after Fukuda's call.  
  
"We'll be leaving now. Please follow me to the car, Tenou-san and Marubeni-san," stated Hagiwargi in a no-nonsense tone of voice.  
  
Wordlessly, both followed him out of the office, out of the hotel, and into the luxurious black automobile. Neither spoke for the entire journey, not a word until they arrived at their hotel room and collapsed onto the bed.  
  
"Okura…" whispered Kotano hesitantly, but Okura silenced her with a look. He closed his eyes…and felt the reassuring presence of the box in his pocket. The box that contained the solution to all of his problems…  
  
*****  
  
If the event had not been cancelled, would Okura have fallen prey to Eguchi's premonition? Would Okura have lost the battle but won the war? Alas, whatever the potential outcome, nothing could change the inevitable; no matter what could have happened, it didn't, and what was done was done. There was no going back…but people would always wonder what could have been…  
  
Okura and Kotano had gone to bed like obedient children that morning, too tired to think about the strange turn of events, of Fukuda's words, of anything. They slept as if drugged…and did not wake until past three in the afternoon.  
  
Kotano was the first to awaken; shocked at the hour, she began to wake Okura –but was stopped by the voice of Hagawargi. He took her aside, unmindful of her crumpled lingerie, and spoke to her softly. He told her of the miraculous change of events, the situation…and how they would benefit.  
  
Okura awoke at twenty past four, after a surprisingly restful rest.   
  
"Oh, shit…" he muttered, remembering the events of the night before, then looking at the clock, "Oh, SHIT!!!"  
  
Desperately, Okura jumped out of bed, and ran into the living room. He didn't even notice that the broken mirror had been replaced. At the table Kotano and Hagawargi were calmly drinking coffee and watching television, as if the greatest moment of his career, no, his life, was over…  
  
"What the fuck is going on…" he gasped, shaking in anger, "why the hell are you just sitting there? I was supposed to be at the stadium over SEVEN hours ago, and you're just sitting here, sipping coffee…  
  
Kotano and Hagawargi looked up surprised at the hysterical Okura, then at each other…and simultaneously burst into laughter.  
  
"…The fuck?" said Okura, beyond confused.  
  
"Oh, Okura-san, we forgot…" began Kotano  
  
"…That you didn't know," finished Hagawargi.  
  
"Know? What didn't, I mean, what don't I know?"  
  
"Okura-san, you just wouldn't believe what happened today," Kotano explained with excitement, "Your race, can you believe this, your race was cancelled. Cancelled! It is scheduled for tomorrow instead…Okura-san, Okura-san, what…are you all right? Okura-san? Okura-san!"  
  
Suddenly Okura couldn't breathe…the ground beneath his feet disappeared…everything went hazy…  
  
"Shit!" Hagawargi leapt out of his seat and caught the faint Okura before he collapsed.  
  
"Oh my God…Okura-san! Speak to me…Okura-san!"  
  
*****  
  
Voices drifted through his conscious, but Okura could not hear them. These words echoed through his head…  
  
{Your race was cancelled…}  
  
{You will be given a sign…}  
  
{You will not need to look for this sign…it will be obvious…}  
  
"A sign, a premonition, a forewarning…will be given as evidence to lead me towards my destiny, as proof that this is the right path, the right decision…"  
  
(Divine Intervention)  
  
"A second chance, I must then…Eguchi's offering…"  
  
*****  
  
Okura came to in Kotano's arms; she embraced him to her breasts; her eyes, turquoise, gazed into his…Kotano gasped as she saw him gazing into her eyes…his eyes, stormy blue-grey, untouchable even when vulnerable…  
  
"Oh, Okura-san!" she cried, and kissed his startled face passionately, relieved… "Thank God! If Hagawargi hadn't caught you…"  
  
Okura blinked, and struggled to sit upright. "What…"  
  
"You collapsed," Hagawargi answered from his position behind Kotano, "Almost hit your head on the counter…shows us never to tell you anything unless you're lying down…"  
  
"I collapsed…after I heard…" Okura gasped as the realisation hit him. " The race! The race was cancelled…the race was cancelled! Oh my God…" suddenly, Okura jumped to his feet and grabbed the astonished Kotano around the waist.  
  
"I can't believe it! I just can't believe it! Cancelled!" He laughed, and swung his lover around in his arms. She giggled, ecstatic, head-over-heels in love.  
  
"I have a chance…I have a chance! I can win…"  
  
(Divine Intervention)  
  
"Oh, Okura-san," laughed Kotano, "Another chance! Oh, I know you can do it, I just know you can!"  
  
Okura put Kotano down, forgetful of her damaged feet. She winced, but was so happy that she ignored her pains. Her eyes sparkled with joy; her cheeks were flushed with colour…a truly beautiful woman.  
  
"Yes…I will win…I know it." He spoke with complete confidence, as if he knew something the others didn't. Okura recalled Eguchi's prophecy, his gift…  
  
Kotano smiled at her lover, happy to see his good spirits return…or was she? There was something about Okura…that was somehow different. Sure, Okura had always been self-assured, but now…what was that glint in Okura's eye? He was confident, too confident...and this was unnerving.  
  
"What happened, anyways?" asked Okura.  
  
"You remember the controversy over the Men's Platform Diving?" asked Hagawargi. (Okura nodded) "Well, it turns out that the French judge had taken a bribe, and gave the French diver a higher score than deserved…naturally, the judge has been removed from her position, and as such the events have all been cancelled for today, for she was scheduled to judge the Men's Synchronized Swimming. All of today's events have been rescheduled for tomorrow."  
  
"Isn't that wonderful, Okura-san," Kotano exclaimed as embraced her lover from behind, kissing his left ear.  
  
Wonderful? It was beyond wonderful, it was incredible, it was unbelievable, it was a miracle, it was…  
  
(Divine Intervention)  
  
…the answer to all of his problems. With this one extra day, Okura knew that he would be able to succeed. He had been given a second chance…and he would not waste it.  
  
"Fukuda-san asked for you to give him a call after you awoke," Hagawargi told Okura.  
  
"Oh, sure thing-just let me get dressed first, Hagiwargi. Man, I'm sure he's pleased, probably happier that I am about it."  
  
Hagiwargi laughed, "That's the understatement of the century. He called me up with the news at six in the morning, said that I wouldn't have to take you to the stadium, after all…probably dancing around the office as we speak."  
  
Kotano burst into laughter at the thought of Fukuda's 300 pounds dancing around, but Okura was strangely quiet.  
  
"I'll be right back, love," Okura said, and left the surprised Kotano and the embarrassed Hagiwargi.   
  
Okura only had one thing on his mind: Eguchi's offering. He strode into the bedroom, and searched the pockets of the clothing that he had worn earlier. The box of 'mints' was heavy. Okura took this box with him into the bathroom…and locked the door behind him. The offering…the contents of this box would change his life forever…  
  
"I have been given the sign; I know what I have to gain…so why is it that I hesitate? Why is it that my hand shakes? Why is it that I'm scared, so scared…why am I afraid?"  
  
{If I am caught…}  
  
{You will not be caught…}  
  
{You must surmount this crisis…}  
  
"But…"  
  
(Divine Intervention)  
  
"I…I…must triumph. I…I will succeed. I am not afraid. I AM NOT AFRAID!"  
  
Shaking nonetheless, Okura opened the box, and held the small mass in his palms. How could something so small make a difference? How could something so small be able to change his life forever?  
  
"I will succumb this crisis! I will succeed! I will triumph over all obstacles…for it is my destiny!"  
  
Okura held the offering above him, and then swallowed its contents. It was done; fate was reversed…  
  
(Divine Intervention)  
  
Okura had taken the steps towards victory, towards the gold, towards immortality…and towards his great downfall.  
  
*****  
  
From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows, life following Okura's decision changed overnight. The events that followed were too fast to handle, a blur of extreme exhilaration and deepest depression-one immediately following the other.   
  
As expected, Fukuda was tickled pink about the fact that the race was postponed-and severely warned Okura not to fuck this chance up.  
  
After a rigorous practice with his personal trainer, Okura took Kotano to one of the most romantic restaurants in L.A.: the Café Des Artistes, on McCadden pl. There they enjoyed a romantic candle lit dinner of exquisite French cuisine, in a setting not unlike a French bistro. Neither ordered wine: no alcohol before a race, as they had been threatened by Fukuda, but neither needed alcohol to get a buzz.  
  
After they ate, Fukuda and Kotano strolled through the ritziest area of the city, sightseeing and enjoying each other's company as they had never had before. Kotano walked as if on air; she felt nothing but the warmth of Okura's body so close to hers. They were a head-turning couple, him looking fabulous in a navy blue suit, her looking ravishing in a low-cut wine coloured gown that reached just past her knees.  
  
Okura's passion over his race overlapped into his passion for Kotano, and after they arrived at the hotel, they embraced fervently and ardently. He took her in his arms, and carried her onto the bed, mad with desire. He ripped off his clothes with lightning speed, and hers as well.   
  
They made love desperately, clinging to each other as if drowning…both reached orgasm simultaneously…their bodies hungry for each other. They made love as if they could never getting enough, if they could never fulfill their hunger. Okura was unrelentless; he pushed and pushed until Kotano feared she would explode, she begged him to stop…yet at the same time, wishing that he would never let her go. It was perhaps their best sex yet…and perhaps the best sex they would ever have. Kotano had never felt so turned on, her body had never seemed so alive; Okura had never felt such passion, such desire, before…he wondered if this was what true love was. They finally collapsed, too exhausted to continue, too weak to try…and both were able to fall asleep without worry. Kotano certain that Okura did care for her…and Okura, confident that he would emerge triumphant from the next day's race.  
  
  
  
*****  
  
Could one predict the rapid rise-and downfall-of one of Japan's beloved? How divine love could turn to deepest hate in such a short time? How could it be that the smallest act could destroy not just the life of the sinner, but the lives of those around him as well? How could it be that the sins of the father would hinder the child from the moment of birth…and linger ceaselessly?   
  
The great downfall of Japan's beloved Tenou Okura…one man whose actions brought down all those associated with him. How his actions would echo on to the lives of his descendants…a curse of the worst sort.  
  
Could one be so blind as to see himself invincible? Could one be so blind as to think himself above the consequences of other men? Could Tenou Okura really think himself as immune to all failure, to all repercussions of his actions? Why had Tenou done what he did? Was it a matter of self-distortion, of radical belief in his own invulnerability…or was it just stress or desperation?  
  
One could ague any of these points; they are all valid, and all may of influenced his final decision…but Okura's true reason would be known only to himself and himself alone. Okura was not the sort to confess his fears or thoughts…and not the sort of man who would be able to express himself in words. It is entirely possible that Okura was unsure of why he chose to do what he did…but still, whatever his reasoning, nothing changes the fact that he did it. What is done is done; it is pointless to linger over the past when nothing can be done to change it. Repent and you shall be saved…move on, ahead, leaving your pain in the past. Of course, this is not the case of the Tenou family. Their past was primary on shaping their future, their inability to let go…  
  
In the beginning, the plan went off without a hitch. Okura did indeed win the   
  
1 500m race, outrunning the second best by almost three whole seconds! Okura clocked in at an amazing 3:29.54 seconds to the runner-up, Sven Magnussen's, 3:32.53. The crowds went wild…Tenou Okura had made an absolutely marvellous comeback, not only beating the winner of his previous race, not only taking home his fourth gold medal, but also achieving a brand new Olympic record! It was more than anyone could have dreamed of, the greatest honour possible! Okura had fulfilled his dream; now, his name would truly live on.   
  
Although losing the 800m would cost Okura a record 5 gold medals out of five, he tied for second place for the most medals won by any athlete with a fellow Japanese gymnast for five medals total…and tied with an American track athlete for most gold won during this competition. Okura was not the overall highest achiever, but tied for most gold medals one and tied for second place for most medals won in total…that was an amazing accomplishment, and not to mention the new Olympic record!   
  
Fukuda believed that Okura became more famous and admired for losing the 800m, because his fifth race served as a comeback. He had lost, but sheer determination and willpower gave him the strength and speed to outrun the man who stole his title. A brilliant move, Fukuda called it, the best possible outcome.  
  
Kotano had never been happier than the moment when, after the race, Okura swept her in his strong arms and spun her around and around, much as he had done the day before, when he learned of the cancellation. He spun her until she screamed in delight, and, gazing into her eyes, stroking a strand of platinum blond hair behind her ear, he bent down on one knee, and preformed before thousands of onlookers and television cameras.  
  
Of course, Kotano knew of The Plan, and she knew that Okura was going to ask for her hand, but the knowledge did nothing to dull her pleasure. She agreed, tears running down her face, and Okura held her close to him, bent down, and kissed her full on the lips. A beautiful scene; the excitement in the air, the exhilaration left from the race, the cheering of thousands, the flashes of cameras twinkling like stars, the pressure of his lips on her own…too beautiful for words.  
  
Through the throngs of people, Okura was aware of Fukuda, that bastard was crying, he was fucking crying…it was unreal; the entire event was dreamlike in quality…nothing was quite real. Unreal, the day was unreal, and of course, unreality.  
  
Too soon, the bubble burst, and what had the quality of a dream distorted, instantaneously became a nightmare.  
  
After the gold medal was hung from Okura's neck, after a fabulous celebration party hosted by his sponsors, after a night of wild passion with his lover, after all of this came the call. One phone call, and the smiles turned to scowls, the words of love and admiration to hate and disgust, the pride…into deepest shame.  
  
"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Fukuda had screamed with the rage of a bull. Yes, just what the fuck was Okura thinking when he took a whopping dose of steroids the day before the biggest, most crucial race of his career?  
  
Okura had taken the drug test the day of the 1 500 with remarkable confidence, with the false self-assurance that he would pass free and clear. He had shown no hesitation, no fear. He acted as if he were immune to the consequences of his actions, as if some higher power would prevent his secret from being found out.  
  
"Tenou, you fuck-up! You rat's asshole, you retarded...piece…of…shit!" Fukuda had screamed, the veins on his neck standing out like ropes, "How could you take such a huge fucking dose the day before the race? How could you think that you would pass the test, the test that can detect steroid consumption from a month previous? How could you screw up your chances for nothing? How could you take a megadose of steroids the day before the event, when you know that it takes time for them to build up in your blood before there are any results? You ruined your career for nothing, Tenou! The steroids did nothing…except cause you to fail your test. You would have won the race without them…all they did was give you confidence."  
  
Of course, Fukuda was right. It was the knowledge that the steroids had done nothing to contribute to his success that hurt Okura the most. The fact that he had taken the drugs for nothing, that instead of aiding him win the race, they were the reason for his loss. The steroids effects were useless. Okura would have won the race without them…but that didn't matter to the Olympic judges. Any traces of steroids in your blood, no matter how small, were cause for disqualification. Not just from the 1 500, but from all of his races. So, instead of just losing one medal, Okura lost all five…for nothing.   
  
For nothing…the words that would haunt Okura until the end of his days…he had lost everything for nothing.  
  
The outrage caused was enormous. All of Okura's devoted fans turned on him without hesitation. Their former hero…the man who they admired, who they respected, who they very merely worshiped…was nothing but a cheat. It mattered not that Okura had won the previous races on his own steam, it mattered not that this was the first instance of him using narcotics, all that mattered was that Okura had failed them…and their country.  
  
What made matters worse was the inspirational speech that Okura had spoken just after his race. He had yelled, he had risen his hands in victory, he said that all one needed was determination and willpower to succeed…so damned ironic it stung. Then there was the interview with famous Japanese news reporter Ebisawa Namika, broadcast just hours before the results of the drug test were known…and then there was the inspirational telephone message from the Prime Minister, delivered after the race…and the engagement…that had been the worst. Delivered in the heat of the moment…the undying devotion from Okura to Kotano…that did it. People were unable to stomach Okura's devotion to the young supermodel; the proposal was based on a lie, on his cheating. All of these things combined made the scandal ten times worse.   
  
If Okura hadn't had the massive media coverage, the enormous public support, the publicity, then his defeat wouldn't have been the catastrophe that it was. The public would have been disappointed, to be sure, but would have forgotten in a short period of time. However, because of Okura's celebrity, the steroid incident became a major media scandal. It was broadcast on news stations worldwide, in newspapers, in tabloids and in magazines. Everyone was aware of Tenou Okura's actions, and everyone disapproved. The higher up you are, the harder the fall.  
  
In the midst of the turmoil, Okura had to deal with the wrath of his manager. Fukuda, to put it delicately, was pissed as a tight-assed bitch in heat. After the news had broke, he summoned Okura to his hotel office for an emergency meeting. Also present was his bloodthirsty lawyer.  
  
Fukuda ranted, Fukuda raved, Fukuda swung his fists and sent things hurling at the wall…but after his frustration was spent, he got down to business.  
  
Fukuda phrased things simply and quickly. "Tenou Okura, we're through. Your career is over, finished, kaput. Your career is over. You've lost everything."  
  
Okura protested, he pleaded, he humiliated himself, but Fukuda would not recant his opinion.   
  
"Look, Tenou, even if there was a way to save your ass…I'm through with you. I'm sick of your bullshit, of your idealism, of your damned sense of invincibility. Even if I could salvage something form this mess, Tenou, I wouldn't. You've made your bed, now lie in it. There's just one thing that I'd like to know…why did you think yourself capable of taking steroids and passing the drug test?"  
  
Okura answered, the best he could, "I…I thought, somehow, that I was…an exception, that somehow, I would not fail, that I was protected by…"  
  
(Divine Intervention)  
  
"So you thought you were 'blessed', or 'chosen'? Christ, Tenou, your idiocy knows no bounds. As much as I'd like to chew you out, though, I'm just too fucking tired. We're through, Tenou. You're on your own. Don't let your ass hit the door on the way out."   
  
Of course, Okura lost more than just his manager. He lost his sponsors, his scholarship, his publicity, his chance to be on the Wheaties box, everything remotely connected with his career.   
  
And of course, Eguchi disappeared without a trace.  
  
He was also sued for massive amounts of money. Companies that had contracts for him to advertise their products wanted their money back, plus compensation for the sales losses they were bound to have regarding the catastrophe. Okura's lawyer handled most of the actual negotiations, so Okura was unaware of the legal battles, but he knew the results. He had lost almost all of the money he had been able to accumulate…all that remained was enough to cover his legal bills.   
  
He had left Japan a hero, and returned a pariah. Two weeks before, Tenou Okura had left Japan with the love, prayers and admiration behind him; he returned to their disgust, their hate, and their disappointment. How one mistake could ruin one's life, how a single action could turn the world against one! Yes, everyone had turned on Okura, his manager, his sponsors, his country…all except the one who mattered least of all to him…   
  
Kotano.  
  
*************************************************************************************************  
  
{I know this is long, but I couldn't help myself…as if possessed, I could not stop writing…and its not finished! Don't worry, just one more short chapter and Part One is finished. Stay tuned; the real story is yet to come!}  
  
-Brandt 


	5. The Sins Of The Father 5

{This is the last section dealing with Tenou Okura and Marubeni Kotano as the main characters; the real story will begin in chapter 6. To all who have made it this far, thank-you for reading!}  
  
*****  
  
Time had passed, unreal, hazy, unmemorable and unrecognisable. Life as she knew it…gone, vanished as if smoke, altered beyond understanding, beyond belief…  
  
With the speed of light, life as Kotano knew it had shattered as if so much glass. The barrier that had shielded her from pain, suffering, truth, had shattered into a million shards, sharp enough to draw blood. All the unpleasantness, dishonesty, repressed memories,  
  
(Betrayal)  
  
and denials…came forth with tremendous speed and power. She could no longer deny what had happened, what was happening…and what was about to happen…  
  
She had lost everything. Her career, her money, her friends, her self-respect…everything that had ever mattered in her life had disappeared. No, not disappeared, but she had given up. For a man, a broken man who took her sacrifices for granted. A man who did not even acknowledge her devotion to him; she was the only one who stood by his side…and did he ever thank her, did he ever tell her how much her devotion meant to him…never! That man, that infuriating, selfish, self-obsessed man…responsible for the condition of their lives, for her pain, for his own! A man of the worst sort: born to self-destruct, taking all who loved him down with him. She did everything within her power to help him, to comfort him…but to no avail. He was as impenetrable as a fortress; a man whose veneer was falling apart, whom was deteriorating before her eyes…but nevertheless he remained unreachable.   
  
He would not take her hand.  
  
Kotano was responsible for much of the settling of Okura's legal issues. While he was locked in his room or passed out on the couch, Kotano was the one negotiating with the lawyer. When Okura was out running, fleeing into his own world, Kotano was the one keeping track of his finances, lawsuits and bills. When Okura was drowning his sorrows in a cheap bottle of Jack Daniels, Kotano was slaving to save something-anything-of their estate.  
  
When they had returned to Japan immediately after the race, the angry citizens of their country bombarded them.   
  
"How? Why?" They asked, anger and curiosity evident in their faces. These people, once loyal fans, were now angry and looking for answers to unanswerable questions.  
  
The poor couple had been unprepared to the extremity of their attack; despite warnings, they were unable to believe the rapid turnaround of their country. The shock of their reception, as well as the constant interference of the media into their lives…the pain knew no bounds.  
  
In the beginning the young couple lived in Kotano's luxurious condo, but when their financial situation became clear to Kotano, they were forced to move into a small, dingy two-room apartment located in one of the worst areas of Osaka.   
  
Where had the money gone? Once they had had excess; now they were almost destitute. Where had it all gone?  
  
Kotano wasn't entirely sure, but she was aware that Okura's lawyer had managed to negotiate an out of court settlement with the suet. It was better than going to court, but the amount in compensation that Okura had to pay was astronomical. Not to mention the lawyer's hefty bills, and the rent for the new apartment…but there was still money unaccounted for. Kotano kept a close eye on their accounts, and spoke with the lawyer more than with her own fiancée (not like this was saying much), but money kept disappearing from their accounts. Not a lot all at once, but gradually the sum of the missing money accounted for much of their remaining gross.   
  
For Okura, Kotano would sacrifice everything that she placed importance upon. She vowed to stand by him, through the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health, whether wealthy or poor. They were not yet married, and with their lives in the state they were, the prospect seemed unlikely to happen in the near future, but still Kotano stood behind the basic principals of marriage. She was taught to stand by her man, to give aid and comfort, no matter what happened. She would; she would give him everything she had to offer; her heart, her support, her love, her devotion, her protection, her loyalty…and her soul.  
  
Kotano had been offered a way out. She had been given a chance to leave Okura and all of this pain and suffering behind, and in effect preserve all else that mattered to her. A way out, or a bribe, it could be called either. But what is in a name, anyways? The end result is the same…how you word your thoughts and opinions is of crucial importance in the world, business or otherwise. Call it what you like, but Kotano was offered a chance to leave. Permanently. She would be able to keep her career, she would be able to keep her celebrity status-in a positive way-and she would be able to earn money.  
  
Her manager, Koei Ochiyo, unlike the power-hungry Fukuda, was a caring person who honestly cared for her clients and their futures. She offered Kotano the opportunity to escape. All Kotano had to do was break up with Tenou. It was so incredibly simple, how this could be the salvation of her career. Simple, yet effective.   
  
If Kotano were to end her engagement to Tenou, suggested Koei, her career could be saved. Kotano could say that the realisation of Tenou's actions forced her to open her eyes, and that she became aware of his true personality. As a direct opposite of Fukuda's approach of a loving successful relationship, Koei's approach was to portray Kotano as the victim of the demanding, brutal Tenou Okura. Kotano, who was pressured to stay by her man, had now had enough. In a heroic move, Kotano would leave Tenou and make a stand for woman everywhere. She, the victim of an abusive relationship, would triumph over the man who brutalized her.   
  
Kotano's career had suffered because of her involvement with Tenou, but if she were to end their engagement immediately, then it could be salvaged. Lose Tenou, or lose your career. She couldn't have it both ways. If she stayed with Tenou, than she was a traitor, in cohorts with a cheater. The choice was hers: career or love?  
  
Such an unfortunate situation for the young woman, a woman hardly older than a girl. An ultimatum too harsh for this girl to decipher. Yet nothing could be done; she had to make a choice, no matter how difficult. Her future was at stake. How could she be forced to choose between the two most important aspects of her life? Nevertheless, Kotano did choose. Perhaps she made wrong decision, but her choice was a noble one.  
  
She chose Okura.   
  
Kotano turned down her manager, and bid her career farewell. The greatest sacrifice she could make was to give up her career for her lover. It took such courage, such strength to give it all up…to stand by a drowning man. But at this stage of her life, Kotano still had faith. She had faith in the power of love, she had faith in Okura, she had faith in herself. The noblest deed of her life…was unnoticed by the man she did it for.  
  
*****   
  
  
  
Okura was lost. He had been broken beyond repair; the meaning of his life had been taken from him, so he felt no real need to fight for survival. One cannot survive without fighting, especially someone who had the entire world against them. Okura simply gave up. He ignored everything around him, from the most crucial financial concerns to maintaining his physical well being. He let things take their course; he was too far-gone to muster any feelings towards anything but his misery.   
  
Self-pity was the only thing that occupied Okura's mind; all other matters were ignored. He wallowed deeply in decadence, never emerging from its strong embrace. He let it submerge him into itself; everyday he crawled deeper and deeper into its soothing void. There, no one would hurt him, no one could touch him. The solid walls kept all pain out-but it also trapped him. He was encased in an impenetrable stronghold, a prison of the mind. He hadn't been trapped for a long period of time, but time was meaningless to Okura. He had been trapped for what had seemed like forever…memories of the past five months foggy and distorted as the water's reflection; he could not recognise himself.   
  
At times, Okura would awaken from his trance-like state forgetful of the past months…but then the realisation would dawn upon him that he was no longer the person he had once been. Once he had been a hero towards the masses, a respected man who ran as if the wind…and now? Now he could not recognise himself, so changed was he. A once bright mind dulled as copper, once shining, now dull. His talent…where had it gone? Every night he would escape the confines of his bedroom; he would run into the night, searching for the familiar rush, of the sense of belonging to the wind…but he could not reach that height any longer.   
  
"Why?" Okura would scream into the night, on his knees, desperate, pleading…alas, no answer dawned upon him.  
  
"Why…" His desperate cries to his element, the element that had driven him towards his dreams, the element that offered him comfort, that offered him strength, that offered him immortality…were never answered. The wind…had left him all alone. Alone. He was all alone, abandoned by his element, by his friends and business partners, by his legions of fans…  
  
"Why does the wind not take me, as it once had? Why has it forsaken me?" Of course, Okura knew the reason; buried deep within him, but nevertheless there. His element had not forsaken him. No, he had forsaken his element! By cheating, by playing God…by tampering with fate…  
  
(Divine Intervention)  
  
By believing the words of a false prophet, the words of a man whose identity he knew nothing of, whose past, whose ambitions he knew nothing of. Eguchi. It all came down to the words of that pompous, manipulative little shit! Eguchi, the messenger of the devil, the Mesestopholes to his Faustus…tempting him with forbidden power, a power that would on the surface grant his dreams, but would in the process destroy everything that he held dear to him…  
  
Okura believed that he had made a pact with the devil, and by doing so he had betrayed his element. His element, the force that he once was able to draw strength from, that he was able to take comfort from…the only thing able to relieve him of his troubles…  
  
Okura was always running away. He found that while running, by pushing every last ounce of strength and adrenaline from his body, that he was able to outrun his mind. When he ran, he felt nothing but the caress of the wind against his body, the tightness of his chest, the effort of his lungs…nothing could touch him. Nothing COULD touch him, but now…now he was unable to lose himself in that feeling. He was unable to outrun his fears and doubts, his mistakes and sins…they were too fast…he could not escape them. Okura ran as if for salvation, as if he pushed his protesting body just a little bit further he could reach this place again…but for naught. He couldn't run any more; he had betrayed himself and his element, and as a consequence, he was unable to travel to his own world. Because of his great sin, Okura had lost everything from the material world…and had lost his fantasy world as well. He relied on this world, on this escape, on this safe haven…once it was gone, then so was he…   
  
So he gave up. No longer caring, no longer making any effort, he slept as if in a state of dormancy, while the world still lived on around him.   
  
Okura entered a different world, a world of self-pity and repression. He reached this place by persistently drinking, continuously and unstoppably until he passed out. Later on he discovered an even more effective method of escape, a method that lifted him to the heights that running once had. The price for this high, however, was extraordinary. More than once his fiancée had found him passed out on the floor, choking on his own vomit. A disgusting picture was Tenou Okura, the ruin of a fine man. How one could reach the top and then plummet to the very bottom in such a short period of time…a terrible, terrible tragedy.  
  
*****  
  
Evening: dark cloudy sky, tempestuous winds, blustering flurries, miserable. Cold. The apartment was always cold; no matter how tightly sealed the windows, the cold still managed to seep through. The thermostat was broken; the landlord was inattentive and lax about repairs.  
  
Cold. The word could be used to symbolize Kotano's life. The miserable winter, Okura's temperament, the state of their romance…they were all cold. She was always cold; she rose from her bed and pulled a sweater over her shivering body, and felt slightly better.   
  
Tired. Lately, Kotano was always tired. She couldn't sleep at night; almost every night, Okura would leave their apartment and stay out, doing God knows what…and not return until the early morning hours. Only when Kotano heard the opening of the door, and the thud of Okura collapsing on the couch, could she relax and let herself rest. Every morning she would awaken alone in bed, no sleeping lover by her side. Okura, Okura…never slept in her bed, he never slept with her at all…not since the scandal.  
  
Miserably, Kotano groaned as the familiar wave of nausea hit, and blindly she ran to the toilet. Stars twinkled before her eyes, she was so dizzy…her head bent over the seat, she vomited, her body desperate to expel its contents.   
  
"Not again," she cried as she felt the sickening clench of her stomach, and again she bent down her head. She dry-heaved, there was nothing left in her stomach, but the nausea remained…she gagged and retched until she almost fainted.  
  
Wearily, Kotano rested her head against the cool rim of the toilet bowl. Which had been her best friend for over two months now. Tears sprung in her eyes as she remembered just what had happened two months before…  
  
She got up, up off the floor and stood before the mirror. The woman who looked back was a stranger…  
  
{Who is this woman across from me? I don't know her, I don't recognise her…yet she seems vaguely familiar to me. Something about the facial structure reminds me of someone…but only the shell. Those eyes, so glassy, so downcast! Why are you crying…are you in pain? I don't understand, what happened to you? Why are you so sad? Please…why won't you answer me? You remind me of someone I once knew, I think…but I can't remember whom. Please, why are you crying? Answer me…answer me! Why can't I touch you? I see your shoulder, so weak, so hurt…I want to comfort you, but I can't. You're too far away; too far away for me to reach you…I'm sorry…}  
  
Kotano could hardly recognise herself. The bags under her eyes, the sagging of her shoulders, her limp hair…and her body…  
  
She cried.  
  
This could not be her! No, that woman could not be the beautiful supermodel Marubeni Kotano, the woman whose face had graced the covers of magazines, the woman who had travelled all over Japan-and Europe-to model for world famous designers and photographers! No, that pitiful, broken, beaten woman…no…  
  
"Please, no, that can't, that just can't…be me! Oh, God…"  
  
It hurt, looking at her reflection hurt too much. It was just another painful reminder of how much had changed.  
  
How everything had changed.  
  
Sighing, she left the mirror, and the bathroom, in search for Okura. She needed to speak to him-now. She needed to speak to him, for over two months, but she had kept putting it off. But now was the time; she couldn't put it off any longer. Now was the time, while Okura was still here, before he left…  
  
"I must be strong. I must tell him…I must…he will understand. He HAS to understand…only…"  
  
Only Kotano had the feeling he wouldn't. Not Okura. Before, he may have…but not now.  
  
Okura had changed.  
  
Kotano stepped into their dingy, poorly lit living room. As expected, Okura lay sprawled out on the couch, an empty bottle of cheap whisky on the floor beside the couch. He was covered in a stained, heavy blanket.  
  
The ruin of a great man.  
  
He had changed…drastically. The scandal had changed Okura both inside and out. He had drastically neglected his appearance. The first thought that struck Kotano was (the smell…) Okura stank of stale sweat, vomit and alcohol…and the disgustingly rancid odour of urine. Okura, who had once been so conscious of how he smelt after running, who would shower twice a day and wear expensive cologne…now smelt as if he had not bathed in five months.   
  
As Kotano approached him, the next thought that struck her (his hair). His once shining, thick, wheat coloured hair, sun streaked with golden highlights…was now limp, dirty, and oily. Before Okura had his hair cut and styled every two months…it had now been five months since the last time. His hair had grown longer, touching the collar of his shirt. Stubble dotted his face, days old…when once he had been so well groomed. Filthy, matted and dull, his appearance was an insult to its former splendour.   
  
Even through the heavy blanket, Kotano was aware of his thinness. His body had shrunken; his face was hollow and gaunt. Once he had been so strong, able to lift her in the air with ease, able to run for miles without effort…now he seemed incapable of rising from the couch.  
  
Okura had indeed changed.   
  
Kotano kneeled beside Okura and shook his shoulder, trying to rouse him from his sleep.  
  
"Okura-san, Okura-san, please, wake up. I need to…" she gasped in horror, her hands covering her mouth. The nausea returned; she felt the overwhelming need to vomit…  
  
{Oh God his arms his arms ohmigod}  
  
While shaking his shoulder, Kotano had accidentally knocked the blanket aside, and as a result his bare arms were uncovered. His arms…once muscular and strong, golden and tanned, now…weak, thin, a pale sickly white, and…  
  
His arms were covered in tracks.  
  
The inside of his arm was covered in red, irritated pricks…the blue veins prominent through his translucent skin…small bruises and partially healed scars…   
  
Needle pricks.  
  
The marks on his arm, the missing money, his unpredictable highs and lows, his frequent nightly escapades…they all made sense. They all revealed the obvious. Okura was a drug addict.  
  
Suddenly, Kotano remembered other signs. His frequent nose bleeds, the bloody tissues in the wastebasket, bloodshot eyes, his inability to stand bright lights, his exhaustion, his pale, yellow tinted complexion, the film of sweat constantly above his brow.  
  
It had been obvious, but Kotano had not seen. She had been too wrapped up with their financial problems to see that Okura was in trouble. But that would all change, as soon as she told him what she must.  
  
Kotano opened her mouth, but the cold hand of caution restrained her from speaking. She wanted to ask Okura about his habit, she wanted to plead with him to give it up, but now was not the time. Okura would surly not listen to her if she was to badger and wail. No, she had to restrain herself. Now was not the time. There were other issues that Kotano needed to discuss with him first. His habit would have to wait.   
  
"Okura…" she called, and was rewarded by the fluttering of his eyelashes.  
  
"Whaa…" He mumbled incoherently, struggling to wake up.   
  
His eyes opened, bloodshot and glassy…but they were Okura's eyes. They hadn't changed. He looked around, and then his gaze fell upon the kneeling Kotano.  
  
"What is it, Kotano," he asked groggily. He winced as the light hit his eyes; the room was dim, but even the faint light bothered his eyes.   
  
"Okura, we need to talk." Said Kotano, her voice low and serious.   
  
It was her voice, a voice strong and demanding, which took Okura by surprise. Kotano seldom, if ever, demanded anything from him. She was always respectful, if a little clingy, towards him. She never spoke harshly to him, even after learning of what he had done. And she addressed him as 'Okura', without the 'san' behind it. She never addressed him other than 'Okura-san', not once in the two years that they had been dating. Okura didn't like this; he didn't like this at all. Kotano had been the perfect companion: undemanding, obedient, unquestioning, loyal…and now this. Now, she was asking for his attention, no, she was demanding his attention, she wanted to discuss with him a matter of seriousness…  
  
Kotano had changed.  
  
Okura sat up, the blanket falling on the floor, baring his bare chest. An expression of shock-and dismay-was apparent on Kotano's face. He had withered away into barely more than a skeleton. Ribs stuck out visibly, his stomach was concave, and his pectoral muscles had shrunken dramatically. How much weight had he lost? He was emaciated…  
  
Kotano stood and motioned for Okura to follow. He struggled to stand. Breathing heavily he rose from the couch and stretched his limbs. He held onto the couch for support; dizziness distorted his vision and he had the peculiar feeling of being weak in the knees.   
  
She winced in disgust as she witnessed his weakness. Okura scowled; pity! She pitied him! Damn her!  
  
"What is it you need to speak to me so desperately about?" Okura asked angrily, his eyes shooting daggers in the general direction where he thought his lover stood. Gradually his vision returned; he realised too late that he was facing the armchair in the corner and Kotano was behind him. He swung around to face her, and that action nearly caused him to black out.  
  
Kotano faced him, looking him in the eye. Okura stepped back in surprise. That she dared to face him, to challenge him…and the look she gave him…what was it? Not quite anger, not quite resignation…but something in between.  
  
"Okura, we left America five months ago. A lot has happened since then. I have been struggling to make the best of our situation while you have been secluded in your depression. As a result, neither of us has been aware of each other, or the changes that we have both been going through. Now, Okura, you must listen to what I have to tell you. Please don't interrupt me; this is difficult enough to say without disruption. Our financial situation is a mess; we hardly have enough money to support ourselves. In a few months, we will be faced with a definite problem. We will need to work together to handle this situation. We will both have to be responsible. We will have to be able to arise from our situation to meet this new challenge.  
  
She took a deep breath, stood as tall as she could, stared right into Okura's eyes, and dropped the bomb.  
  
"Okura, I'm pregnant."  
  
The words, spoken softly, nevertheless had the force to echo throughout the apartment. Those words had the power to change everything. The impact sent Okura reeling…his head spun…  
  
"What, How…" he stuttered in disbelief, shocked to the core. He couldn't respond, he couldn't think, all he could hear was her words booming throughout his head (Okura I'm pregnant I'm pregnant Impregnant)   
  
Kotano looked down towards her feet, her display of courage slowly evaporating, and with her strength leaving her, Okura felt his returning.   
  
"You're pregnant? Pregnant? How the hell can you be pregnant? You're on the fucking birth-control pill!" He screamed, his eyes wild, his fists flailing.  
  
She would not meet his eyes. "I stopped taking them,"  
  
"Why the hell did you do that? Besides, I, I haven't even fucked you since we returned…"  
  
She winced at his choice of words, tears springing to her eyes. "I threw them out before that…" she whispered, cringing.  
  
"But the last time I fucked you was…" He gasped. It had been the night after the race…  
  
"After your victory in the 1 500, just before the results of the tests were known."  
  
"Then…you're five months pregnant…"   
  
Five months. Although Okura knew next to nothing about pregnancy, he was aware that in women as far along as Kotano was the pregnancy should be apparent; looking closer Okura saw the arch of her stomach protruding through her sweater. So it was true! Oh, God!  
  
"You'll have to get an abortion." He said with a chill in his voice.   
  
She wrung her hands helplessly. "I can't, I'm too far along. No doctor will abort a child in the fifth month."  
  
"Then we'll find someone else to do it." Okura replied, emotionless. "It's a simple procedure, no doctor necessary."   
  
She gasped. "No! There's no way that I'm going to let some butcher abort it! And Okura-san, the baby is five months old; a child this age could be kept alive in an incubator!"  
  
"She's gone back to calling me 'Okura-san'," He thought absently.  
  
"An abortion is out of the question! Do you know what procedure they use at this stage of pregnancy? They abort the child, alive, and then they kill it! Murder! I will not murder this child!"  
  
"Stop calling it a child! It is nothing but a fetus! A fetus, nothing more than a damned fetus, Kotano, nothing more!"  
  
Okura stood before her, his face red, his fists clenched, power returning to him. How dare that bitch challenge him, Tenou Okura! How dare a mere woman challenge him! He was wired; despite his emaciated body, he felt strong once again.   
  
"Look, how she cowers on the floor! Cowers to me!" He thought, and laughed cruelly. Nothing like dominating a helpless woman to make him feel big.  
  
"Why…are you laughing?" she cried in anguish. "How can you laugh about a situation as serious as this?"  
  
Okura looked down upon her, this pitiful, desperate woman cringing from the very sight of him, her back to the wall, cornered like a helpless animal. Stupid bitch! As if she could ever dream of opposing him! He may be down, but he was far from being helpless, and far from being under her control. It was time to show her who was boss.  
  
"You have no right to oppose me." Spoke Okura slowly, weighing the impact of his words. "You have no right to ask questions. I'm not asking for you to have an abortion-I'm telling you. Now, do you hear me? You are going to have an abortion. You are going to, Kotano, even if its done by a butcher, by a sadist, by the fucking devil, it doesn't matter…you are going to, Kotano. No matter what."  
  
"No!" she wailed, burying her face in her hands, her body trembling. She could not let him win, no, not this time. She would stand her ground for once in their relationship. He had always dominated her, and she had never resisted…but in the matter of life or death, she would stand her ground!  
  
"You cannot disobey me, Kotano! I am the man of this house, and what I say…why the hell are you laughing?" he was cut off by the loud, somewhat hysterical laughter of Kotano.  
  
"Oh, so you think you're the man of this house, do you, Okura?" Kotano laughed, an angry, vicious laugh coming deep from within her. "Well, I've got something to say towards that. Who do you think has been responsible for the purchase of this apartment, Okura? Just who do you think was the one responsible for settling all of your legal battles? Who was the one who fought to keep what was left of our estates, who was the one who is responsible for the upkeep of this place? Who was the one who walked you through the first days after your big scandal, huh, Okura, who? Who was the only one who stood by you, when you were abandoned? Well? What do you have to say to this, Okura?"   
  
"Shut up! Just shut up!" He screamed, turning away from her.   
  
Kotano was no longer cringing in the corner; she advanced towards the distraught Okura, courage returning with her intense anger. She had promised herself never to bring up the scandal, but Okura had gone too far. How he dared to disrespect her…Okura had never treated her as an equal, but to disregard all that she had done for him…she would speak her mind.  
  
"No, Okura, I am not going to shut up. I am going to tell you just what I think of you! Now listen, listen to me for once in your life! Okura, you are not the man of this house. You are weak! Yes, weak! You, you who are stupid enough to take steroids the day before a race, and believe you won't be caught! Stupid! You, who believes that you're special, that you've been chosen…you, who believes to be superior to all other men! You are weak, Okura, stupid and weak."  
  
"Shut up…"   
  
"I'm not through with you yet! Do you think you're strong, you who cannot even face the world! You're afraid, so you turn to drugs-yes, I know about your habit! Don't look so surprised! So you think you can order me around, you, so pathetic that you leave your financial concerns in my hands, you, who cannot even take care of your most basic needs! You are nothing, Okura, and you have no power over me." She took a deep breath, and screamed with all the repressed rage of the past five months escaping, "You are a coward, Okura, and you are not a man!"  
  
At the moment the words escaped her lips, Okura screamed and slapped her across the face with all of his might. She went spinning with the force of his blow, and struck the wall.  
  
Okura had never hit a woman before. It was hard to judge who was more shocked from his reaction, him or Kotano. She lay in a heap on the floor, her eyes wide, her face deathly pale.  
  
Her words had hit him with the force of a sledgehammer; he was breathless and felt as if all the air had left his lungs. Never had he been so insulted! How she dared…  
  
Okura stepped closer to her hunched body. He looked down upon her, that weak, stupid bitch…but her words revealed to him that she was far from weak. She had stood before him, and emasculated him. That took courage, strength, characteristics that Okura did not possess, that he had never possessed…  
  
He gazed upon her form, his face unreadable in the dim light.   
  
{I could end it now. While she's down, while I have the upper hand…I could end this nightmare. Just one kick, just a quick, hard kick to her abdomen…and it will disappear. No need to waste money on a doctor, or a butcher…if you want it done right, you've got to do it yourself.}  
  
Okura pulled back his leg, aimed his foot towards her belly…and stopped. What…was he doing? Could he really kill the small life inside of his fiancée? With his own hands (or feet), was he driven towards murder? Suddenly he saw himself from the perspective of an onlooker; he saw a desperate, homicidal man hell-bent on murdering an innocent life…  
  
He stopped himself from killing it. There was still a trace of nobility in him at this stage of his life. He was not that far gone yet.  
  
Okura left his shaking, crying fiancée on the floor and left the room. Within minutes he was back, suitcase in hand.  
  
As soon as Kotano saw the suitcase, she struggled to her feet and ran towards her departing lover.  
  
"Wait, Okura! What are you doing?" She screamed, panicked as he headed towards the door.  
  
With a sharp glance, Kotano stopped before she reached him. There was a look in his eyes, a look that suggested that he was not in complete control of himself, that he could hurt her if she interfered…  
  
"I am leaving you, Kotano. You have betrayed me, and I am unprepared to be a father. I cannot stay; it would destroy me. Let me go, or I will take you down with me."  
  
"Please, Okura, I, I'll get you help, this isn't you speaking! No! It's those drugs, those damned drugs…that are making you act so! Please…"  
  
"No. I am leaving you; it is not the drugs, or the alcohol speaking, it is I. Tenou Okura. The man who ran as if the wind…"   
  
He left her standing in the doorframe, on a cold winter evening in December. She watched his form disappear into the misty night, and continued to gaze out into its depths long after Okura had disappeared. Strange, how she was not crying. She had shed so many tears over that man, her heart had been broken so many times…why was it that when he left her, she did not cry? She had sacrificed so much to keep him, so why was she letting him escape from her grasp?  
  
There was no answer. Why she did not cry, why she was unable to feel anything towards him…it was a mystery.  
  
Sighing, Kotano absently placed her hand on her growing belly and stroked its roundness.  
  
"My child, my poor, dear child…I can offer you no hope, no comfort, nothing…for I am empty. You will be alone, I am afraid, and you will never understand why it is that I cannot love you…but please know, that I have fought with all of my strength for you to be born. Just know that I fought for you…and forgive the rest.  
  
*****   
  
Months later, on a pleasant day in early spring, Kotano sat outside her apartment holding a small infant in her arms.  
  
Kotano looked down into the deep blue eyes of her daughter. She was a beautiful child, everyone commented on what a beautiful little girl she had. Soft golden blond hair grew rapidly, already curling around her sweet face. Long, black eyelashes fringed luminous blue eyes that had already began to show signs of grey and green circling her irises. A striking face; the child had clearly inherited her grandmother's Danish cheekbones and full lips. A true beauty…  
  
Tenou Haruka.  
  
But Kotano was unable to love this child. The child of her and Okura, the child that she had lost everything to save…she had Okura's hair, Okura's eyes…  
  
Kotano could not love this child; even it wasn't the child's fault that she had caused Okura to leave. Kotano had lost too much; at nineteen, she had lost the ability to love another. Okura had stolen that from her, her first love he had been…Okura had taken her ability to love. She had given too much of herself to that man to ever be whole again.  
  
The child cried, and Kotano undid her maternity bra and feed the child from her breast. She ran her hand through the soft golden baby fuzz on her daughter's head absently, wishing that she could love this child. But she could not. She was empty, barren; there was a piece of her missing…  
  
The shadow of a man stood before her. A homeless man, from the looks of him. Dirty, emaciated, the stench of urine and cigarettes traveling to her in the pleasant breeze.  
  
"Go away," Kotano snapped angrily, gesturing with her wrist. "Go away!" she repeated, slightly afraid. This wasn't the safest neighbourhood…  
  
The man looked at her helplessly, and reached towards her beseechingly. She scowled, and was just about to yell for help when she saw his face.  
  
His face.   
  
"Okura?" she asked the man in disbelief.   
  
"Ko-tan-oh," the man replied, and collapsed at her feet. The stench was nauseating, it plugged her nostrils, she could scarcely breathe…  
  
"Okura! Oh my God…"  
  
Weak, skeletal, dying, this man…was her fast, strong lover…  
  
"Ko-tan-oh…"  
  
He had returned to her. Broken, bleeding, coming without pride, without strength, without anything…he had returned to her.  
  
Ignoring his odour and the filth he was coated in, Kotano went to him and looked into his eyes. Defeated eyes. No pride or burning passion apparent.   
  
The ruin of a great man.  
  
Without questions, Kotano took him into her arms, and back into her life. She escorted Okura into the apartment without words, without thought, without feeling.   
  
*****  
  
{Phew! What was supposed to be a brief glance into the lives of Haruka's parents turned out to be a short story in its own right! Oh well, this storyline is crucial to the bulk of the fic so it deserves to be lengthy!   
  
The real story begins in Chapter 6, so to all those frustrated with the incredibly long/depressing saga of Okura and Kotano, check out Chapter Six!  
  
P.S. I'm going to name this part of the story something different, if anyone has any ideas for a name, feel free to write it in a review. A shameless plea =( don't be shy about writing reviews! I read all of them, and am inspirited by them! Thank-you to all those who have read so far, and to those who have taken the time to review it.}  
  
See you in Chapter Six! - Brandt 


	6. Prologue To Kaze mo Sora mo Kitto

{Warning: this fiction contains mature situations, bad language and is rather dark. You have been warned…}  
  
Prologue to Part Two  
  
"The Sins of the Fathers pursue the course of the children..."  
  
For as long as she could remember her life was a never-ending struggle.  
  
Nothing ever came easy for Tenou Haruka.  
  
When she was young, others remarked with thinly veiled disapproval what an unruly child she was. How she had a dirty mouth. How she would pick fights. How roughly and aggressively she would play. How she had no respect for authority, almost distain towards anyone who lorded his or her power over her.  
  
A strange child, they would murmur amongst themselves. Aggressive. Domineering. Rude. Angry. A girl who took no shit from anybody, no matter his or her places on the hierarchy. A girl who disobeyed orders, a girl who fought against the world, a girl who looked trouble right in the eye and never backed down. A girl who was born to raise hell.  
  
They had no idea.  
  
Looking back, Haruka was unaware of just when she realised that she was different. She was a highly perceptive child, able to see what others could not. Yet, for the longest time she could not identify just how she differed from others.  
  
For as long as she could remember, condemnation had been the attitude most had towards her. She could never do anything right. Whether it was to play nicely with other children or please her school principal, she was never able to please, or appease, them. Haruka possessed a shrewd determination and self-conviction that always got her into trouble. Unable to back down, unable to apologise or repent, Haruka was often punished for her stubborn demeanour.   
  
She was untouchable; whenever anyone tried to approach her, she would cut him or her off. Tenou Haruka, she who would not be bothered by anyone, she who would retaliate with fervour all who opposed her.   
  
A solitary fighter was Tenou Haruka. Isolated from others, tolerant of no one, no one could break through her defences. Except the only one who understood…  
  
As the child of former Olympic runner, and public disgrace, Tenou Okura and former supermodel Marubeni Kotano, she had a lot stacked against her. Apparent but invisible throughout her childhood was the cloak of shame for the sins of her parents. An ominous feeling that attached itself to their lives, that they were unable to free themselves from. The consequences of a decision made before her birth, nevertheless Haruka was impacted by their effect.   
  
Perpetually throughout her childhood was the great sin that was never mentioned, never discussed, but always present. Even though Haruka was unaware of the identity of the sin, she still felt its suffocating presence. It dominated their lives.  
  
Always Haruka was searching for answers, but her parents were either unwilling or unable to offer her assistance. She knew that something was wrong with their lives, with them, but what was a mystery. It was not until she was older that she was unable to untangle its ambiguity, but by that point the damage had been done.   
  
There was no changing the past; what was done was done. Whatever damage had been caused was irreversible and unchangeable. Haruka would come to terms with her past, but she could never forget it. Her past was as much a part of her as her stormy blue-grey eyes; she could disguise them, she could hide them, but they would always be there…  
  
Most of her early childhood was spent away from home, either at school or at her neighbour's who ran a daycare. Haruka was separated from her mother when she was less than a year old, as the family's financial situation was destitute. Kotano worked as a waitress for minimum wage at a sleazy, dingy bar-type restaurant; a far cry from her glamorous life as a model. Her mother was forced to work for ten hours a day, six days a week, to support her family. As a result she seldom saw her daughter, and Haruka was left to grow up on her own. And as for her father…Haruka had no idea what he did with his time. Often he was away for days on end, and when Haruka asked her mother for an explanation, she would vaguely reply, "He's busy."  
  
From the very beginning, Haruka was an outstanding athlete. She was extremely mobile, walking months ahead of others her age, and running about soon after. She was blessed with extraordinary coordination, and was built for speed. At three years old, Haruka was able to outrun children over twice her age with ease. She amazed those who saw her, but her parents remained indifferent to her talents. It was if they never even saw her…  
  
Haruka was curious as a child, and would often ask her mother questions about everything. Kotano, however, was easily irritable, and Haruka soon learned that her mother was best left unbothered. Her father, however, was best avoided all together. He was unpredictable; one moment placid and quiet, the next he was ranting and stomping throughout the apartment.  
  
A once outgoing, outspoken child became quiet and introverted as a result of the irritability of her parents. Haruka was no idiot; once she realised that her constant chatter annoyed them, she withdrew into silence. She learned that it was better to be left unheard.   
  
What Haruka remembered best about her childhood was the constant fighting between her parents. Her father would come home late, smelling as if he had bathed in beer, and her mother would inquire, just what the hell was he thinking of doing wasting the money that she slaved away to earn to support them on his habit, and her father would tell her to shut the fuck up and then they would start hurling insults at each other like missiles, and then maybe some plates and her mother would cry and her father would hit her and Haruka would see everything from behind the door of her room.   
  
Her father was a dangerous man. He was tall and scrawny and smelt like the butt end of a cigarette, his eyes were clouded over blue, his hair was longish and scraggily, and his temper was as sharp as a knife. If he ever caught her doing anything she shouldn't be doing he would grab her by the arm and spank her until she saw stars.   
  
One time Haruka accidentally dropped a plate on the floor when she was helping her mother with the dishes and in came her father, wild eyed with a cigarette dangling from his mouth and whisky on his breath. He grabbed her by the arm so hard that it almost dislocated, and slapped her so hard across the face that she had a bruise on her cheek for over two weeks.  
  
Yes, it was best to avoid her father whenever possible.  
  
Haruka loved her father almost as much as she feared him, and wanted desperately to please him, so that he would love her. She tried to be cheerful and happy like other girls, but whenever she tried to undertake a conversation with him he told her to shut her face if she knew what was good for her. She tried to play it cool, and do her best not to anger him, but all that resulted in was him forgetting about her and getting stoned. She tried to do favours for him like getting him a beer or the newspaper, but after she spilt beer on the carpet and got her behind smacked she gave up that approach too. She tried everything, but nothing worked. So Haruka simply decided to stay out of his way, and wait for him to notice her. But he never did.  
  
Perhaps Haruka first noticed the difference between her and other children when she began school. Although Haruka's babysitter baby-sat other children, none of them were within her age group, and all were from similar financial situations, although none had as horrible a home situation. Nevertheless, all of the children Haruka was associated with had similar backgrounds, whereas in a public school, the children came from all different home and financial situations.   
  
Nothing could have prepared either Haruka or the school for each other.  
  
When Haruka was three years old, her mother decided that instead of forking over large sums of money to the baby-sitter, her daughter would be enrolled in kindergarten. Haruka was pensive; she had heard horror stories from her neighbour's kids about what went on at school, but Kotano was firm. They needed to save every cent that she earned; Okura was notorious for spending enormous sums of money to support his habit, and several times he had spent Kotano's entire paycheck before she was able to pay their bills.   
  
So on the first of April Haruka was enrolled in kindergarten. Her mother dressed her in the ridiculous uniform consisting of a frilly white blouse, large red bow and a plaid skirt. Despite the fact that Haruka was comfortable in nothing but jeans and T-shirts, her mother insisted that she must wear this abomination.  
  
"But how am I su'ppossed to run around, Mom?" asked a disgruntled Haruka, scowling fiercely as her mother tied her long, customarily loose sandy-blond hair back with a matching red ribbon.  
  
"Because you are supposed to wear a uniform when you go to school," her mother had replied testily.  
  
"But why do I have to wear a skirt? I hate skirts!" she had moaned, hating how short the stupid thing was; if she bent down, her underwear was visible. "Besides, Seiki-chan gets to wear pants! Why can't I?"   
  
"Because you are a girl, and girls wear skirts." Kotano had replied. "Its just the way things are."  
  
The way things are.  
  
At least all of the other girls looked as stupid as she did; however, this was little consolation to Haruka. Let everyone else look like idiots, but not her!  
  
On beginning school life as she knew it changed forever. Haruka was in for the surprise of her life when she realised that there was a world outside her own, that others did not necessarily share her own experiences and observations. Her interpretations and experiences were akin to herself and herself only, and those of the other students known only to them. At the age of three, Haruka came to realise and understand the rules of society; those who differ from the masses are isolated from the masses.   
  
Haruka not only differed from the other girls in appearance; she was taller and thinner than every other girl and most of the boys as well, but also in attitude. Where the others were dreamy, good-natured and uncomplicated, Haruka was aggressive, hardheaded and convoluted. Where the other girls played with their dolls and liked pretty dresses, Haruka preferred to run around and play with toy cars. Where other girls and boys were happy and outgoing, Haruka was sullen and introverted.  
  
Her teacher noted that while Haruka seldom showed interest or enthusiasm in her schoolwork, she made rapid progress and was the first child in the class able to read. She learned at breathtaking speed, and clearly possessed a vast vocabulary for a child so young. Which surprised the teacher as Haruka seldom spoke or offered input into any class discussions.   
  
She was a mysterious girl, Tenou Haruka was, isolating herself from the others. Clearly intelligent, why did the girl act as she did? She was attractive; she was smart, so why did she purposely set up barriers to segregate herself? Why did she do the things she did; was she purposefully sabotaging her chances of friendship and acceptance?  
  
At first Haruka wanted to be included amongst the silly, chattering little girls and boys, but gradually she accepted her state of isolationism as the way things were meant to be, and although she remained resentful towards others, she did not voice her thoughts. To try and fit in and be rejected; there could be no worse humiliation. Haruka may have only been three, but pride still overruled her actions.   
  
Some things never changed.  
  
Of course, Haruka was hardly the only loner, but she even differed from the other outcasts. While the other outsiders were desperate to be included, Haruka seemed content to live on the outside. The other loners were teased mainly because of their desire to be included into the inner circle of the popular children; Haruka appeared indifferent. She was too proud, and perhaps too stubborn, to risk condemnation.   
  
Rather than change to suit them, she took pains to appear standoffish and reproachful towards the others. This led the other children to further distance themselves from her, and to label her as a snob. Of course, no one would dare say this to her face; after what she did to Sawa Ryoko, no one wanted to mess with Tenou Haruka.  
  
After the first week, Haruka had established herself as independent from the other children; she left them alone and they left her alone. However, the class bully was not one to let an outsider be; Ryoko felt it his duty as class tyrant to deal with those outside his social circle.  
  
After lunch one day, the children were sent outside to play; the majority of the children played a game of hopscotch, while Haruka amused herself by kicking around a soccer ball. Upon seeing Haruka alone and the teacher out of sight, Ryoko paused his daily activity of chucking rocks at the wall and wandered over.   
  
He walked directly behind Haruka; with surprise and indignation he realised that she was slightly taller than him, even though he was a year older.  
  
"What do you want?" asked Haruka without turning around; Ryoko was pissed; he liked to think of himself as possessing great stealth.  
  
"I dunna lyke ya, Tenou," he said with an articulate capacity beyond his years. Ryoko liked to think of himself possessing a vast vocabulary.  
  
"Likewise, I'm sure," she replied indifferently without facing him; she continued to kick the soccer ball.  
  
This infuriated Ryoko; how dare this girl not even face him? How dare she pay no heed to his words? (Of course, Ryoko's thoughts went along these lines 'oh dat girl pisses me off why won't she turn around')   
  
"Hey, don't you not listen to me like that!" he yelled, clenching his fists. "Hey, I'm talking ta you, you ass-butt!"   
  
She ignored him. Again. That did it; he would have to assert his superiority, his place as the kindergarten bully!  
  
Ryoko placed his hands on her shoulders; she spun around and met him eye to eye; he was surprised to see anger in their depths, anger…but no fear. He stepped back in surprise; her eyes were dark but for a glowing green ring around her irises, he had never seen eyes like that before…  
  
"Don't touch me." Said Haruka threateningly, angrily.  
  
Of course Ryoko did no such thing; instead, he grabbed her arm and brought her close to him.  
  
"I can touch who I wanna," his oh so brilliant reply. He applied pressure to her arm; she didn't flinch.  
  
"I'm going to give you one chance to let go and go away, and one chance only. Are you going to take advantage of my generous offer or not?"  
  
"Gen'rous? What you talking 'bout?" he didn't let go.   
  
Oh well, he had been warned…  
  
Without warning, Haruka spun around and planted a solid kick right in his stomach. He crumpled to the ground in an undignified heap.  
  
"You bitch!" he rose to his feet and lunged with all the power of his substantially larger body.  
  
Except he missed; somehow Haruka managed to dodge his attack and trip him simultaneously. The result was rather comic; he went flying head over heels and landed face down on the asphalt. Tears came to his eyes, but Haruka showed no mercy. She stepped over to him and placed her foot on his chest.  
  
"I don't like people touching me," she said without pity, without remorse. Cold. "And I don't like people bothering me. Do you understand what I'm saying?"   
  
He whimpered, nodded, and started bawling. At this point, the teacher had noticed their fight and had run over. She was startled to see the strongest, toughest kid in the class beaten and bleeding, and the quiet, reserved Haruka standing over him.  
  
"What happened?" the teacher asked in shock; the answer was fairly obvious.   
  
"He was bothering me, so I stopped him." She said. Without a trace of emotion in her voice.   
  
The teacher was suddenly frightened. This was a three-year-old child, after all.  
  
Needless to say, Haruka was forced to stay in the corner all day.   
  
That event caused the teachers to see her in a different light; no longer was she merely quiet, but disturbed. Not only was she merely isolated; she was exiled. It made little difference to Haruka; she had already figured out that it was better to have people's fear than their compassion. All that mattered to her was that Ryoko never bothered her again, as did anyone else. Self-imposed exile, one may call it, but to Haruka, it was merely survival. Never let anyone close; never let anyone see your vulnerabilities. Better to let them think you deranged than desperate.  
  
As she knew all to well from bitter experience.  
  
Once, when Haruka was about five, there was a period of time that stood out in her mind. A period following a particularly violent attack by her father, which resulted in Kotano landing in intensive care with a broken arm and bruises from her face to her toes. Her mother had been in the hospital for two weeks; her father told the police that she fell down the stairs.   
  
During these two weeks Haruka was forced to stay with her bitchy neighbour who smelled like day old shit and had a face like the butt of a green pepper. She chain-smoked menthol cigarettes all day long in front of her television, and left Haruka and the other children she baby-sat roam free in the backyard. Haruka was forced to stay with this old windbag, and her asshole trucker husband who smelt ten times worse and whose face had the odd puckered look of an anus.   
  
She missed her mother dreadfully, and was worried sick about her. Although Haruka seldom spent time with Kotano, and seldom Kotano granted her an audience, Haruka loved her. The last time Haruka had seen her mother was right before she was taken away by ambulance; she had been curled up in a ball on the floor, weeping and clutching her broken arm. Haruka had held her mother close to her, stroking her long white-blond hair, which was spotted in blood. Her father was long gone.  
  
Finally, her mother returned with a cast on her arm and fading yellow bruises covering almost every inch of skin. Her father wasn't there.  
  
Kotano and Haruka arrived home, and life went on, but her father never made an appearance.   
  
"Where's Dad?" she asked her mother after a week, for Haruka was sensitive to her mother's moods and could see that Kotano was unwilling to talk. After a week of guessing, though, Haruka needed answers.  
  
"Where's your father? Where's your father? In hell, I hope!" Kotano had yelled at her bewildered daughter, and slammed her bedroom door. After this violent outburst, Haruka decided to keep her questions to herself.  
  
Finally, almost a month after Kotano's return from the hospital, she took Haruka onto the couch and told her that they were going to have a serious conversation. Haruka was intrigued, and curious; her mother seldom wanted to speak with her about something important.  
  
"As you may be aware," began Kotano, "Your father has a temper, and he sometimes…lashes out. His drinking... alcohol, I mean, influences his temper. When he drinks, he hurts people. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yeah," Haruka had replied, rather confused, "but if drinking beer makes him bad, then why does he drink it?"  
  
"Because…because he's a man, I suppose…Anyways, to help him with his drinking problems…and other habits…he is at a rehabilitation clinic. Hopefully they can cure him. He should be back within the next few months. Do you understand?" asked Kotano.  
  
"Kind of. So, Dad's sick off his beer, so he goes to the 'rehab-tion' centre to cure his disease? Like how you went to the hospital to fix your arm?"  
  
Kotano nodded slowly, amazed at her daughter's comprehension of the difficult situation, grateful that she needed no further enlightenment. It was hard enough to explain as it was.  
  
The months that her father was gone marked the first peaceful period of Haruka's life. However, three months later when her father returned life became even more hazardous than before.   
  
Okura came back from the rehabilitation centre gaunt, nervous and edgy, but full of regrets. When Kotano brought him home from the clinic, he sobbed and cried, promising that he would be a new man. He sat on the sofa, wearing a clean white shirt with no cigarette burns or stains that hung off of him as if he were a coat rack. Kotano sat beside him, stroking his freshly cut blond hair and his bony face. He vowed to love his woman and child; her parents both became teary eyed, and embraced. Haruka was sceptical; was he the same man who had harassed her mother for as long as she could remember?  
  
Despite her initial scepticism, Haruka forgave her father, letting him hold her on his lap and kiss her face, paradoxically on the same cheek that he had slapped not long before. She would give him a chance; after all, if her mother believed him, then shouldn't she?  
  
Although he had been clean for over four months, Okura was still experiencing after effects from the drugs. He had been a serious addict for five years now, and had been into heavy drugs such as heroin and cocaine. Kotano had to take a leave of absence from her job as Okura needed to be monitored at all times, just in case he had a relapse.  
  
Kotano explained all of this to her daughter, leaving out all references to drugs. She explained it in a way that made Haruka believe her father had a terminal illness, and not a terminal addiction. Haruka knew a kid who had cancer; her mother used the same terms as were applied to this child, so Haruka came to the conclusion that her father had cancer. Her mother said nothing to persuade her otherwise.  
  
Occasionally they would do things as a family; go to the park, go shopping, but these instances were rare. Often Okura was too sick to leave his bed; in fact he was often so sick that Kotano had to lock him in his room.  
  
On these occasions, Haruka would hide underneath the covers of her bed, her hands over her ears to block out the sounds of her father's anguished screams. Her mother would often climb into Haruka's bed as well, and they would cling to each other desperately. In the weeks following Okura's dismissal from the clinic, Kotano frequently slept in her daughter's room, partly because she was afraid of her fiancée, but mainly because she needed her daughter's comfort.   
  
Ironically, Haruka liked her father more when he was on drugs.  
  
When they ran out of money, Kotano was forced to return to work, and Haruka was left alone with her father when not in school, as they had no money to pay the babysitter. Haruka was forced to walk for over an hour from school everyday, on her own.  
  
While her father writhed and moaned in his room, which Kotano kept a heavy cabinet in front of, Haruka would escape the house to play outside in the apartment's lot. There she was free of all her troubles; outside that horrible apartment Haruka could do as she pleased. She would play by herself, running about unsupervised, able to be loud and carefree. Often she would stay out all day, afraid to be alone with her father, even though he was unable to escape his room. Kotano would return home at ten o'clock at night, dead tired, and would find her daughter asleep on the steps.  
  
The cravings were horrible; Okura would scream, beat his head against the wall, run his fingernails through his skin until it bled. Once when Kotano returned home and stepped into his room, she saw that he had torn apart the bed, thrown a chair at the window and cut open his arms from wrist to elbow. After this incident, he had to return to the clinic.  
  
Haruka was ashamed to admit that she was happy that her father had had a relapse; it meant that the screaming stopped, that her mother stopped curling up on the floor in fetal position, and that her father was gone.   
  
However, Haruka's relief was not long-lived, as Okura returned within a week. They simply did not have enough money to keep him there; his medical bills had put the family even further in debt.  
  
He returned home sedated, white bandages wrapped around his wrists, unable to walk through the door without assistance. His eyes were dead, empty; he looked like a zombie. Haruka had almost cried when she saw him, but one swift look from her mother stopped her. Instead, she slowly walked over to him and hugged his emaciated body. He didn't react; it was like hugging a corpse.  
  
This time, Kotano was forced to leave him alone when she went to work. She was forced to send Haruka to the baby-sitters after school, as Okura was unpredictable and prone to bouts of violence. Okura was able to leave the house at will, as no one was there to prevent him from doing so. Sadly, he frequently made use of this opportunity.  
  
Because Kotano and Haruka were away from home during the day, and because Okura was asleep when they returned, it took them a while to notice a difference in Okura. Kotano was always exhausted, having to work sixty hours a week, and Haruka was too young, but gradually both noticed a change in Okura. The yellow tinge to his skin, the frequent nosebleeds and the extreme highs and lows all returned. Kotano frequently noticed money missing from her purse. A sickly sweet smell clung to his clothing, his breath smelt strongly of Listerine and smoke, and his lips were abnormally dry to the point of blistering and cracking. Although Kotano suspected that Okura had a relapse, she was unable to voice her suspicions. She had no solid proof, but these symptoms put Kotano on her guard.   
  
Despite initial uncertainties, life went on for Haruka and her mother until the day when the suspicions were proven to be true.  
  
Then, all hell broke loose.  
  
One fateful Saturday in December as Haruka was preparing for bed the sounds of a fight erupted. After Okura's second homecoming, her parents seldom spoke to each other, let alone fought, so this sudden turn of events was unanticipated. The sounds escalated; Haruka became frightened. The only other time she could remember a fight this bad was when her father had put her mother in the hospital.   
  
Cautiously, Haruka peered from behind her bedroom door and watched the scene unfold before her.  
  
Her parents were standing in front of their bedroom, facing each other like prizefighters. Her mother was on the offence, and her father the defensive. Her mother was furious and enraged, her father shifty and adverse.   
  
  
  
"What the hell were you thinking?" screamed her mother at her father, disbelief and contempt heavy in her voice.   
  
"You had better watch your mouth, you bitch…" her father had replied threateningly.  
  
"I'll say as I damn well please, Okura! After all of the shit you put us through, after all the months in that damned clinic, after you came home and made life a living hell…you go and do a stupid thing like this! You bastard!"  
  
He slapped her, hard, across the mouth, but she stood her ground defiantly.  
  
"You dare to hit me, after you broke my arm…"  
  
"I'll make that injury seem like a scratch if you don't shut up…" Okura moved towards her again, but Kotano retreated into the kitchen.   
  
"What the fuck do you think you're doing…holy shit!" he gasped in shock as she returned, a carving knife clenched in her hand.  
  
"Hit me again and I swear I'll use it…"  
  
Haruka gasped; her mother looked as if she really meant it. Paralysed with fear, Haruka had no idea what to do. If she tried to stop them, she could be caught in the crossfire, but if she just stood by…  
  
"Mom," she whispered, but was unheard. The screaming had escalated again; her father was relentless in his pursuit, her mother was determined to finish her speech.  
  
"Just guess what I found underneath the bed today, Okura?" she teased menacingly, waving the knife before her face.  
  
"Kotano…"he started, but was cut off.  
  
"Just guess? Give up? OK, I'll tell you…a small baggy of white powder…white powder…COCAINE!" She screamed as loud as she could; her voice vibrated throughout the apartment.  
  
"Look…"  
  
"Cocaine! Oh, you thought that you were so smart, trading the needles for powder…so smart, thinking that with no tracks, I wouldn't figure it out…but you got careless, and left your stash in plain view…"  
  
Cocaine? Haruka knew vaguely what that was from her teacher, a bad drug that bad people sold to bad kids…something to do with peer-pressure…what was her father doing with cocaine?  
  
"Look, just shut up, already. It was just a few hits, nothing serious, just to take the edge off…"  
  
"With you its never a few hits, with you its all or nothing. All these nights that I've come home, dead tired, thinking 'oh how nice poor Okura is finally able to fall asleep without the cravings blah blah blah'…and now this! You haven't been overcoming your cravings; they've been overcoming you! You gave in! You bastard, after you promised, you coward…"  
  
The word coward awoke Okura from his submissive stance; being called what one feared most of being enraged him to the point of fury.   
  
"Shut up!" with a cry, Okura lunged at Kotano with the swiftness of a panther; too startled to react, Kotano was knocked to the ground with Okura landing on top. He grabbed the knife from her hand, and held it threateningly to her neck. Her struggling instantly stopped and her face paled drastically. From her bedroom, Haruka began to cry, but her father was oblivious.  
  
How quickly the tides could turn.  
  
  
  
"Say one word or move one inch and I'll slit your throat from ear to ear, you hear?" he rasped, his foul breath on her face; involuntarily she gagged.  
  
"Yeh-yeh-yes…" she stammered.  
  
"Good. That's real good. Now look here, bitch, I've had it up to hear with your bitching and your nagging and your other assorted bullshit…and I'm not going to put up with it anymore. You got that?   
  
"I-I-I.."  
  
"Good. Now listen to what I'm going to say, and listen well. You have no power over me. None. Maybe I did say I was going to give it up, and maybe I did say that I'd love and cherish you and all that shit…but that's all it was, Kotano. Shit. Just shit I said to keep you off my back…and the cops, too."  
  
Okura grinned; it was a grin more frightening than any frown or grimace. He looked mad, psychotic…  
  
"I am a man, Kotano, and as a man, whatever I say, goes. If I want to flush my life down the shit-hole, if I want to get as high as a fucking kite…then I'll do it. Because I'm a man, and my word is law, and you can't do anything to stop me. I'm fed up with you trying to control me, I'm fed up with you trying to overthrow me…hell, I'm fed up with you. But that's all going to change, isn't it? Isn't it!"  
  
"Ye-ye-yes…"  
  
"Yes, my dear, it is all going to change. You know the lyrics, 'the times are a-changing'…or something along those lines; I forget exactly…who sung that anyways?  
  
"Buh-Bob Dylan…"  
  
"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot, it's a good thing that I've got a smart bitch like you around to remind me…now where was I…oh, yes, I remember! I was asserting my dominance over you…" He grinned and ran the knife gently down her throat with just enough pressure to break the skin. He laughed fanatically as he did so.   
  
"You're high, Okura, please, its not you talking, it's those damned drugs…" whispered Kotano hopefully, struggling for understanding.  
  
"No, It's me, darling. Its all me; its always been me. The drugs just give me the fucking balls to do so." He laughed, and pressed himself close to Kotano; with horror she could feel his growing erection.  
  
He lowered the knife to her chest, and with one swift motion cut the bodice of her nightgown. Her breasts were exposed; Kotano screamed as he bit her, hard…he just laughed.  
  
"You dare to question my dominance, my masculinity…I'll show you whose boss around here…" Okura pulled up her nightgown and struggled out of his pants, managing to keep the hand with the knife level with her chest. Kotano was too afraid to struggle; her throat was too dry to scream…all she could do was cry silent tears and wait for it to be over.  
  
He mounted her like an animal and dry-humped her, passionlessly, as she lay there, so still, so still but the convulsive motions his thrusting manipulated her body to perform, so still…  
  
Haruka saw everything.  
  
When he was finished, he stood up unsteadily but with a triumphant smirk on his face.  
  
'How do you like them apples," he laughed clumsily, laughing slightly. Kotano remained motionless, a limp doll, broken and discarded. Her eyes were closed. Was she unconscious?  
  
Okura kicked her side, and she groaned slightly.  
  
"Stupid bitch," he muttered, picking up the knife and holding it before his eyes.   
  
He debated whether he should further punish her or not, but before he had a chance to decide, he felt a pain in his leg. Looking down, he was mildly surprised to see his daughter standing in front of Kotano, and that she had kicked him. Hard.  
  
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He yelled, and slapped her face. She fell to the ground, landing on top of her mother. Although the slap stung, she did not cry. Instead, she turned her head to face her father. On her face was a defiant expression.  
  
"Those eyes," he vaguely thought, but was too enraged to consider just what about them caused him fear. He was blinded by rage: first his wife, and now his daughter! Challenging him, fighting back…he raised his hand…  
  
She stood before him, anticipating the hit, feeling the rush of wind as he drew back his hand; she closed her eyes, resigned to the fact that he was capable of anything…  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
For, just as Okura had prepared to strike her, something stopped his hand from colliding with the face of his daughter. A force prevented him from moving his hand; he looked at his hand…and gasped.  
  
Around his wrist was the hand of another.  
  
He looked at his daughter; behind her was the ghostly figure of a tall woman whom his daughter resembled. This woman, standing nearly as tall as him, translucent, with short blond hair and green rimmed blue-grey eyes…his daughter's eyes… wearing a strange uniform. A soldier. She held his wrist in a grip so tight that he was incapable of movement.  
  
Desperately he struggled, but to no avail. He tried to scream, but his throat was strangely dry. He stared transfixed into the mysterious soldier's eyes, fear causing him to break into a cold sweat, body shaking, but unable to look away.   
  
A sign appeared on her forehead, its meaning unknown to him. The same sign appeared on the forehead of his daughter.   
  
"What…" he gasped, not understanding but afraid none the less.  
  
{She has her eyes, the same sign upon their foreheads}  
  
Haruka felt a presence behind her, the presence of someone she knew but could not remember. She wanted to open her eyes, but the presence prevented her from doing so. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and a voice in her head (Don't be afraid little one I'll protect you). The presence reassured her; she was no longer afraid.   
  
The ghostly figure of the woman stared deep into Okura's eyes, able to threaten him without words…the sign burned on both her and Haruka's foreheads…  
  
Okura backed away as the hand suddenly let go of his; he stumbled back and landed on his ass. The figure gave him one final glare, and embraced the girl in front of her. Then she disappeared.   
  
Haruka's eyes remained closed.  
  
The woman had only been present several seconds, but for Okura, time had stopped. Her eyes haunted him; he could still feel their glare after she had disappeared.  
  
Something had happened; the balance of power had shifted.  
  
He did not understand just what had happened, but Okura knew that the woman was connected to his daughter in some way. That for whatever reason, this woman was bound to protect his daughter…  
  
He was afraid.  
  
Okura fled from the apartment. He would never return.   
  
The sign on her forehead disappeared. Haruka opened her eyes as the door slammed behind her father. He was gone. At last.  
  
Her mother's eyelids fluttered. Haruka knelt beside her and stroked her hair lovingly. Her poor mother, doomed to pay for a mistake she once made, to suffer at the hands of her husband, slave to a desire she had no control over…  
  
But that no longer mattered. Her father was gone, this time for good. He was too afraid to return. Just what had scared him she did not know, but she was grateful all the same.  
  
"Thank-you," she whispered.  
  
**********  
  
How do you like the story so far? I know its kind of dark and depressing, but for Haruka to become the strong person she is I believe that she had to face some serious battles. Her kind of strength is not inherited, it is earned through trials and suffering.  
  
BTW, thanks to Distantskyking for the idea of naming Part One…it's perfect!  
  
Thanks for reading, your comments are appreciated and welcomed J  
  
-Brandt 


	7. Kaze mo Sora mo Kitto 1

The world is in ruins; detonated buildings, dead bodies littering the ground like so much trash, a massacre of human life. The sky is coloured crimson; all else is black. All has died; the stench of death is heavy in the air.  
  
The lone figure of a girl watches the obliteration in horror; she sees everything around her destroyed. She cries out, but no one can hear her…she is isolated in a world of death.   
  
Suddenly, a distant form shrouded in mist is visible atop the highest perch, a sinister shadow. The form holds a long weapon in its hands, it lowers the weapon…  
  
A woman with long hair appears before the girl; she carries a large staff in her hand.  
  
"You must gather the three talismans," echoes the woman's husky voice… "To save the world from the silence! Awaken the light within yourself! Awaken the power deep inside you! Gather the three talismans…to stop the Messiah of silence!"  
  
"Awaken!"  
  
*****   
  
Tenou Haruka awoke with a start, breathing heavily and shaking. Her nightshirt clung to her sweaty body, and all of her blankets had been kicked to the floor.  
  
"That dream again," she whispered. For the past few months this reoccurring nightmare had haunted her, this dream of the end of the world.  
  
"Just a dream," she said, trying to reassure herself. It was just a dream, wasn't it? Certainly nothing other than a   
  
{Prophesy}  
  
nightmare, right?  
  
"Haruka!" called her mother, "Time to get up!"  
  
"Oh, shit," Haruka mumbled under her breath as she saw the time. Sighing in resignation, Haruka rose from her bed, stretched, and wandered over to her window.   
  
From her window she looked out into the grey sky and the vast landscape of the city of Okura. Closest to her lay the ugly, dilapidated apartment buildings resembling her own; only on clear nights the great skyscrapers of Osaka were visible. On these nights, Haruka liked to climb onto the roof of the apartment. On the roof she could see for miles.   
  
However, this morning was hardly clear, and Haruka was unable to see beyond the ugly warehouse at the end of the street; hardly a picture-perfect view.  
  
"Haruka!" her mother called.  
  
"Coming," Haruka replied, leaving the window and heading towards the bathroom. She scowled into the mirror above the sink; she looked like hell. Her face was pale, her eyes were puffy and her long blond hair was an absolute mess.   
  
She splashed her face with cold water and ran a comb through her tangled hair. God, did it hurt! If only her mother would let her cut it…  
  
After she had tamed her wild tresses, she pulled off her sweaty nightshirt and threw it into the laundry bin. And looked at her underwear in horror…  
  
All thoughts concerning her nightmare disappeared.  
  
"Oh, shit!" Haruka cried out as she saw the crimson stain. She had got her period. Fucking fabulous. Frantically she searched the bathroom cabinets for sanitary napkins, but could find none.   
  
"What's the matter?" asked her mother from behind the door.  
  
"Uh…" Haruka was embarrassed to tell her mother that she had gotten her period, but had no choice. She quickly wrapped a towel around her naked body, and opened the door.  
  
"Mom, can you come in here for a minute?" she asked, cursing her misfortune. Of all the luck…  
  
Her mother, clad in a simple white blouse and short black shirt, her hair in an elegant French braid, walked through the doorway. She gasped when she saw her daughter's semi-nude body.  
  
"My God, she's almost a woman," thought Kotano with disbelief; only thirteen and that developed…  
  
"Mom," Haruka said, her eyes downcast, "I've, I've got my, my…  
  
"Oh, Lord," Kotano moaned as she realised what her daughter was trying to say. She was indeed a woman.  
  
Kotano found it hard to look at her daughter, yet she could hardly keep her eyes away… Usually clad in her baggy school uniform or loose jeans and t-shirts, Haruka had kept her feminine body a secret.  
  
But with only a towel around her waist, Kotano was able to see well-developed breasts, a miniscule waist, and slim but shapely hips. She was beautiful…  
  
"Mom, it's my first time, and I don't know where you keep your pads…" Haruka stammered, but stopped when she saw the peculiar look in her mother's eyes.   
  
"Mom?"  
  
Kotano blinked and looked away from her daughter. "They're under the sink, behind the paper towels," she replied, and their was something in her voice…disapproval? Annoyance? Anger?  
  
"Do you know how to use them?" asked her mother, her voice somewhat distant, as if her mind was elsewhere.  
  
"Yes, the nurse at school told us about them…"  
  
"Oh. I guess I should have showed you where I put them…I didn't think you would start menstruating so soon…"Her mother bent down and opened the cabinet, searching, "I guess you've been developing so fast that it shouldn't have surprised me…"  
  
Menstruating so soon? Developing so fast? What?  
  
Haruka was aware of her reflection in the mirror…Oh, God, her mother was right!  
  
"Here you are," said her mother, handing her a large box of pads. Kotano wouldn't look at her daughter.  
  
"Thanks…"replied Haruka, ashamed of herself. Oh God, why wouldn't her mother look at her?  
  
Her mother nodded, still not meeting her eyes. "It looks like I'm going to have to buy you a bra, Haruka…" still she would not look at her daughter, "Remind me, and I'll take you shopping on Sunday."  
  
'Yeah, sure," Haruka replied, not intending to and praying that her mother would forget.   
  
"I'll see you at breakfast. Hurry up, it's past seven."   
  
"Ok, sure," Haruka blushed miserably, feeling as if she had somehow disappointed her mother.  
  
Kotano left, leaving her daughter standing in the doorway, confused, embarrassed…and ashamed. Of herself.   
  
Of all the tortures Haruka was forced to face daily, nothing compared to wearing her school uniform.  
  
A frilly white blouse, a shapeless grey skirt with–gasp–a lace slip and to top it all off, a retarded red bow. Not to mention the "Mary-Jane" shoes.  
  
Not only was it as ugly as sin, it didn't even come close to fitting: too loose around the waist, too tight across the bust, and shapeless everywhere else. The school simply didn't have her size; her choices were either a too loose uniform or a too short one. Rather than expose anymore than she had to, Haruka opted for the loose one. It wasn't her fault that the uniform was designed for someone who weighed fifty pounds more than what she weighed, and flat as a board to boot. The only way she could wear the skirt without it falling off was to pit up the back with safety pins.   
  
God, what a pathetic sight.  
  
Well, nothing to be done about her appearance; rules were rules, however dumb they were. At least she didn't have to wear pantyhose. Thank God for small favours.  
  
Dressed and groomed (kind of), Haruka left her room and met her mother in the kitchen. The very same kitchen where her father had almost killed her mother.  
  
Her mother sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and eating her 'breakfast' of half a grapefruit and a cup of black coffee. Never mind that she hadn't had a modeling gig in fourteen years. Marubeni Kotano still lived by the same mindset.   
  
Still living in the past, as if a twenty-five inch waist still mattered.   
  
Haruka rummaged through the fridge, finding nothing but her mother's diet food. Oh well, better to eat healthy. She was a top athlete, after all, and couldn't afford to let herself go.  
  
She took a carton of yoghurt and an apple out of the fridge, and debated whether or not on a cup of coffee. She took a whiff-smelt like motor oil. She passed.  
  
"What are you doing today?" asked her mother, not looking up from her newspaper. She brought a cup of the foul smelling coffee to her lips.   
  
"Oh, the usual, Karate practice, the race track, why?" Praying that her mother wouldn't mention the bra. Or shopping.  
  
"Just wondering. I want you home before ten, though. I need to talk to you about something."  
  
Shit! Fuck! Sonofabitch!  
  
  
  
"Oh, what about?" asked Haruka nonchalantly. Oh, please, anything but shopping!  
  
"Just something. Jesus Haruka! I'll tell you when you get home, alright?"  
  
Oh, so her mother was being mysterious. Haruka tried to think of what her mother wanted to talk to her about. Her grades? No, they were fine. Her job? No, her mother appreciated the money. Ten o'clock was too late for shopping, it had to be something else…Haruka racked her brain, trying to wonder if she had gotten into any serious fights in the last few days…she had, but hadn't been caught. And then, it hit her.  
  
'The Talk'. The topic that every mother felt was her duty to explain to her daughter. The topic that every girl feared. The puberty/sex talk. Oh, shit.  
  
"But Kumada-san might need me to stay later," babbled Haruka, desperate to avoid this conversation at all costs, " there's this guy, and he's got a classic Mercedes that needs extensive body work, and Kumada-san might need another pair of hands…"  
  
"Haruka, you will be here at ten." Said her mother, voice heavy with threat.   
  
Shit! She was serious!   
  
"All right, Mom," said Haruka with resignation. There was no avoiding it; sooner or later this was bound to happen. Might as well get it over with.  
  
Man, the day was off to one hell of a bad start.  
  
*****  
  
If there was anything in the world worse than History, Haruka hadn't heard of it.   
  
Sure, the topics of slaughter, rebellion and upheaval may have been interesting under different circumstances, but considering that her teacher sounded uncannily like Ben Stein…  
  
Haruka glanced around the classroom with disinterest, observing her fellow classmates. All seemed as bored as she; most were asleep, some were staring off into space, and one kid had a rather large strand of drool hanging from his lip.  
  
Just another Friday morning in Hell.  
  
Haruka absently flipped the pages of her history text book; admiring the art of past students. Stalin as a pirate, Mussolini with boobs, King Louis IV with a finger up his nose…all classics. Haruka debated whether or not to add her own representation of one of history's leaders to the book…perhaps something involving Richard Nixon and a flag up his ass? No, that had been done to death…  
  
"… 'nou-san? Tenou-san?" The voice, toneless and slightly nasal, drifted through her thoughts.  
  
She looked up from a picture of Ernest Hemingway with a gun to his head and into the vast, bottomless pit that was her teacher's nostril.  
  
"Ye-gads!" thought Haruka, repulsed. She wondered vaguely if the man had ever tweezed his nose hairs before…no, judging from the vast jungle of hair inside, probably not.  
  
"Yeah," she replied with disinterest. As distant as her name…  
  
"Have you not been paying attention, Tenou-san?"  
  
Well, that was kind of a no-brainer…   
  
"Uh…" She just stared at him, wondering why it was that teachers felt it necessary to ask the obvious. Why, oh why did teachers find it their duty to try and enlighten her, when they could choose from forty other students? One of life's unsolved mysteries, perhaps.  
  
"Well, Tenou-san, if you had been listening, then you would know the answer to the question I have asked you several times." He said, his voice not changing from its usual monotone.   
  
"What was the question again, Mabuchi-san?"   
  
The class giggled. As if they hadn't been ignoring the guy either. Stupid hypocrites.  
  
"Well, what I wanted to know was, which countries were members of the Axis of Evil, besides Japan, and what was the significance of this?" asked Mabuchi, lording his superiority over her, gleeful that the class was finally paying attention to him.  
  
Oh, tough question. Sad though it was, Haruka actually preferred to read her textbook rather than listen to her teacher's boring lectures. Also, graffiti was way funnier if you knew the identity of the victim.  
  
"Hmm, let me see…" she paused for dramatic emphasis, "The other countries would have to be Germany and Italy, ruled by Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini, respectively. This was significant because all three Axis countries were ruled by dictators."  
  
The teacher was shocked. The classroom was shocked. An uncomfortable silence lingered after Haruka's speech. Her teacher stood rather stupidly in front of Haruka's desk, flabbergasted. He could have sworn she hadn't been paying attention…  
  
Someone coughed; the spell was broken. Mabuchi quickly gathered control of himself.  
  
"Uh, that is correct, Tenou-san," Mabuchi replied, and returned to the front of the room.   
  
Haruka laughed inwardly. She enjoyed shocking her fellow classmates and her teachers. Sometimes she would feign ignorance, sometimes she would answer correctly, and sometimes she would say nothing at all. She was unpredictable; no one knew just what she was going to do. No one knew what to expect.   
  
The bell rang at last; the students came to life. Mabuchi struggled to be heard over the stampeding students racing towards the door, but it was in vain. Most of the students had already escaped.  
  
Haruka was the first one out the door. Her damn pad had been bothering her all morning and she had to check it. Nothing was more frightening to her than the prospect of it leaking or, even worse, falling off. Sure, it was stuck to her underwear, but what if it somehow came loose? What if it shifted and fell, leaving a tell tale red trail down her leg, falling to the ground, saturated in blood?  
  
Not bloody likely, but nevertheless stranger things had happened…  
  
Reaching the bathroom in record time, Haruka locked herself in the first stall and undid the safety pins that held her skirt on. Glancing down, she was relieved to see that the pad was indeed still there, but horrified at the gigantic stain on the pad. Holy Shit! She was bleeding like a struck pig!  
  
The pad needed to be replaced. Her mother had given her a 'light days' pad…this was not a light day. And of course, Haruka had been too embarrassed to look at her mother, let alone ask for a spare.   
  
Thank the Lord for bathroom pad dispensers! Haruka pulled her skirt back on, disgusted by the feel of the wet pad against her skin, opened the door, looked cautiously around, and stepped out. She made her way towards the dispenser, stuck some change in, and turned the handle. Nothing happened.  
  
"What?!" she gasped in disbelief. Frantically, she put more money in and turned the handle. Again nothing happened.  
  
"Oh, SHIT!!!"   
  
The stupid machine was broken. Here she was, stuck in the girl's room with a filthy pad and no replacement. There was no way that the pad could last all afternoon; it was drenched.   
  
Haruka didn't know if she wanted to scream or cry. So she did the next best thing; kicked the dispenser with enough force to knock it off the wall. It fell to the ground with a crash.  
  
The thing was completely trashed; one side had an enormous dent, and the other was slightly crushed due to the impact of it falling to the ground. Several coins littered the ground; Haruka pocketed them without a pang of regret. Conveniently, the small door that was used to fill the machine was broken. Haruka opened the door, reached inside…and felt nothing. It was empty.  
  
"No!" The fact that the dispenser was empty infuriated her to breaking point; with a mighty cry, Haruka picked up the dispenser and hurled it at the closest wall; it collided with a bang.  
  
Feeling somewhat satisfied with the wreckage of the pad dispenser, Haruka quickly exited the bathroom as if nothing had happened. She had gotten in enough trouble this year to have a senseless act of vandalism added to her rather hefty permanent record.   
  
The problem of being without having a clean pad was still an issue, but Haruka realised that she had acted rather hastily. All was not lost; there were other bathrooms, other pad dispensers! Surely one of them had a fresh supply of sanitary pads!  
  
She was wrong. The only other girl's bathroom had only tampons. Now, Haruka knew how they were supposed to be used, but the actual mechanics of inserting them…was beyond her comprehension.   
  
Haruka felt the walls of the bathroom stall closing in around her: an attack of claustrophobia!   
  
Reading the instructions, Haruka felt a queasy feeling overcome her, and vaguely wondered if she should have eaten that carton of yoghurt that morning. Were you really supposed to insert it there? It was so thick! How the hell could it fit?  
  
She had no choice; with a shaking hand, Haruka struggled to insert the tampon…she brought it within an inch of entry, then threw it to the ground in abhorrence. She just couldn't do it…  
  
Unable to use the tampon, and without any other options, Haruka knew that there was only one thing left for her to do. The end of the line, the last result, not to be used until all other options were exhausted.  
  
Head down in defeat, she slowly dragged herself closer and closer to her final destination. The last resort…almost as humiliating as leaking, almost as humiliating as someone noticing a red stain on the seat of your skirt…  
  
Nothing worse than being lectured on personal hygiene by the school nurse who probably hadn't needed to wear a pad for about fifty years…   
  
  
  
*****   
  
After everything that had happened that day, Haruka never wanted to see another sanitary pad again in her life.  
  
Alas, how can a mere mortal fight against nature's curse? Better to accept it than dwell upon its unpleasantness…  
  
All of a sudden Haruka doubled over as a massive cramp pierced her side, and her temples began to throb painfully.  
  
Of course, just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, they did. That was life for you.  
  
Haruka sat outside under a large tree behind the school, enjoying the late January weather and trying to summon an appetite. She had to eat; she had karate this afternoon, and Yoshioka-sama was a slave driver…  
  
Normally by this time, Haruka would be ravenous and devour her entire lunch in less than five minutes, but today the mere thought of food made her sick to her stomach.   
  
A tuna sandwich, a banana and a bottle of orange juice…usually her favourite, but today she was unable to manage a mouthful. Oh well, she could at least drink some of the juice…  
  
At that precise moment a scream reverberated throughout the schoolyard... a boy's scream. Immediately it was muffled, but Haruka wasn't fooled.   
  
She had had enough; PMS had taken its course. Haruka was pissed off as it was, and that scream had done nothing to help her growing migraine. On any other day, Haruka tended to avoid conflicts between boys, as most were mutual confrontations.   
  
However, today was not any other day.  
  
She walked towards the direction the scream had come from with purpose, her muscles tensing in anticipation. Destroying the pad dispenser had not curbed her rage. It had only taken the edge off. Fortunately she was presented with the opportunity to unleash her fury.   
  
A large crowd stood in a circle around the offender and his victim. As she approached the crowd, she recognised the culprit as none other than Saeki Kenji, infamous asshole and tormentor. The victim's identity was unclear; he was face down in a pile of mud.  
  
Haruka watched the scene before her in disgust: Saeki was forcing his victim to thrust himself in the mud, sans pants. Saeki stood over his victim, his boot planted firmly on the poor boy's bare ass. The boy was sobbing; the crowd laughed and cheered as Saeki grinned maliciously. There wasn't a teacher in sight.  
  
Hands clenched in determination, Haruka pushed her way through the crowd until she stood before the triumphant Saeki. She cleared her throat.  
  
"Huh," Saeki looked away from his throng of admirers and into the livid face of a tall, thin blond girl. He smirked arrogantly, ran his hand through his thick black hair.   
  
"Well, well, well, what have we got here?" said Saeki confidently, his hands folded across his chest. "A cute girl, thinking that she'll play the hero? That she'll rescue this poor pathetic sack of shit from his fate as a mud-fucker?"   
  
The crowd laughed; Haruka stood her ground and did not flinch. Did not move. Did not display any outward emotion. Although, looking closely one could see the slight curl of her upper lip.   
  
  
  
"Hey, you deaf, or something? Look, do you have a problem?"  
  
Haruka smiled, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Oh, how she wanted to beat this asshole…she could just taste it.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I do."   
  
Saeki laughed, "Yeah, it's kinda obvious that you do." The crowd laughed, predictably, at Saeki's routine reply.   
  
Oh, wasn't he the clever one, so original, so unique. Haruka, however, was unruffled; this shit slid right off her back. He couldn't touch her. Couldn't even some close.  
  
However, the bell was due to ring in approximately five minutes, so she had to cut to the chase. So she decided to hit him where it hurts.  
  
"Yeah. I have a problem with guys who get off by dominating weak little boys and forcing them to fulfil their deepest, darkest fantasies…need I continue?"  
  
The crowd gasped at her frankness; Saeki's flippant, confident air diminished as rage distorted his features. He abandoned the poor kid and walked towards her, standing maybe five feet away.  
  
"What did you say?" He snarled, baring his teeth.  
  
"You heard me. Need I repeat myself?"  
  
Although Saeki probably outweighed her by fifty pounds, Haruka wasn't frightened. Saeki may have been larger and possibly stronger, but he was untrained. Haruka, on the other hand, was a veteran fighter, trained by one of Japan's greatest martial artists. She knew that his brute strength could be defeated by her stronger endurance and vastly superior speed.   
  
"You…you…" He charged in blind fury at her, fists raised…  
  
Haruka had been waiting for this; without hesitation she dodged with expertise and swung a lightning fast kick at his midsection. He groaned, but was far from finished. Jumping to his feet, he swung a fist at her face; she ducked and uppercutted him on the chin. His head snapped back with a sickening crack…but still he hung on. Haruka wasn't disappointed; in fact she was happy that he was a formidable opponent. The longer he stood, the longer she would be able to pummel his face in.  
  
Saeki was astounded that the girl had been able to avoid his attack, never mind her landing two hits on him. He was outraged; first she insulted him viciously, and then she managed to strike at him with impressive force…it was not to be tolerated. He started towards her…and was stopped by a brutal strike to his stomach. She was relentless in her pursuit, delivering blow after blow in unyielding fury, not letting up until he fell to the ground in a heap. Yet why was it that she looked so distant, as if on autopilot?  
  
She pressed her foot against Saeki's stomach; he was too weak to resist.   
  
The crowd stood as if time had stopped, so shocked were they of Saeki's defeat. Sure, many of them knew that Tenou Haruka was a tough fighter, but to be able to defeat Saeki Kenji, their idol, without a scratch? He was muscular and fit, a football player and wrestler, the undefeated champion of their school…how was it possible for him to be so badly beaten by a one hundred fifteen pound girl?   
  
Haruka bend down beside him and looked him dead in the eye. He flinched, her eyes…those stormy green rimmed blue eyes, detached but triumphant…he wanted to look away but found himself incapable of breaking eye contact. She looked as if this fight had no meaning for her, as if it was a way to release unspent frustrations…  
  
"Are you sorry for what you've done?" asked Haruka coldly.  
  
Saeki was afraid, but his anger overcame his fear…how dare she humiliate him, in front of so many people…how dare she beat him as if it meant nothing…he had to hurt her as she had hurt him…  
  
"You dyke," he hissed with venom in his voice.  
  
Haruka's face went very white and her body began to shake uncontrollably. Suddenly her cramps returned and she felt faint…how could he…  
  
The look in her eyes changed; pain and uncertainty were reflected in their depths. No longer was she distant, no longer was she condescending…he had hit his mark. Harder than any physical hit, he had struck her most vulnerable spot.  
  
"You bastard," she whispered, unshed angst in her voice…  
  
Saeki felt strong hands around his throat, he couldn't breathe…  
  
Haruka was unaware of anything but Saeki's brutal words echoing through her skull, she had to silence him for good…   
  
  
  
The sounds of people screaming awoke Haruka from her trance. Her hands left Saeki's neck abruptly; looking down in horror, she saw dark bruises circling his neck…she grasped his wrist and searched frantically for a pulse…  
  
"Oh, please," she prayed, "Please…"And then she felt his pulse, weak, to be sure, but there…  
  
"Oh, thank God," she whispered in gratitude, "Thank God…"  
  
Haruka was frightened. What had come over her…how could she of done this to him…she could have killed him.   
  
"Oh, Lord, what have I done…"  
  
The crowd of onlookers parted as the stern figure of a teacher headed towards the scene of the fight.   
  
Words failed him as he absorbed the scene before him: the figure of a girl bent over the unconscious form of the young man she had attacked…and a poor retarded boy struggling to drag himself out of the mud.  
  
*****  
  
How does everyone like the story so far? Please give me input as it helps me write what people want to read…  
  
-Brandt 


	8. Kaze mo Sora mo Kitto 2

Haruka was not herself today.  
  
The events of the day had taken their toll; Haruka was in an absolutely horrible mood and not afraid to let anyone know it.  
  
  
  
She arrived for work distant and sullen, was snappy with the mechanics and customers, and did not utter a sound unless absolutely necessary.  
  
Kumada Arika was worried about his prodigy junior racer. Usually she was flippant and confident, ranting about the injustices of her school and the various assholes that attended it. Usually she was sarcastic and enthusiastic and very, very interested in the events of the race track/auto shop. Usually she was eager and if not happy, content.  
  
Today Haruka was not herself.  
  
Kumada had known Haruka for nearly five years; he was her mentor and she was his prodigy. They were close, buddies, she was like a sister to him…and it hurt to see her so upset.  
  
For Kumada knew that she was upset. He could see through her façade; he had known her for too long. Although she acted cross and was irritable, although she was distant and standoffish, Kumada knew that inside she was distressed, that she had somehow been hurt…   
  
The poor kid had a lot against her; first of all her father was an absolute asshole who had deserted her and her mother, after putting them through hell beforehand. Her mother was never there for her daughter. At school she was an outcast, and was always getting in trouble for fighting…kids turned against her because everyone knew what her father had done… She was forced to fight for anything resembling a normal life, having to fight against invisible forces that were stacked against her…having to fight against fragments left over from the past, her parents' battles…the consequences of her parent's actions was the cross she was obliged to carry…  
  
Kumada remembered well the day he had first laid eyes on Tenou Haruka…  
  
*****  
  
It had been five years prior, in the summer of '92. A former professional motorcycle and car racer, Kumada had just previously purchased his race track/auto shop after a serious accident had rendered him unable to professionally compete.   
  
The day of their meeting, Kumada was hosting a semi-professional motorcycle competition. Although not a competitor, Kumada was a coach to several promising young racers…one of them being Marubeni Kotano's love interest at the time, Matsuda Denbe.  
  
Kumada remembered Matsuda escorting a beautiful blond woman and her tall blond daughter into the racing pits. He remembered the young man, obviously smitten with the former model, showing her and her daughter the different motorcycles and guiding them through the garage. He remembered the young man trying to explain to them both the mechanics of how an engine worked…and he remembered the fascination and excitement on the young girl's face.  
  
Haruka had found her calling that day at the racetrack. She had seen the race from the bleachers, and had immediately fallen in love with the high of the race, the speed of the cars, and the sheer power behind them. She had stood and cheered, oblivious to her condescending mother, oblivious to everything but the roar of the engines and the exhilaration of the race.   
  
So exited was the girl that she stood out in Kumada's mind…amidst the vast crowds of people only that girl stood out, only the tall, thin girl with the waist length blond hair…only she was able to capture Kumada's attention…and he didn't even know her name.  
  
During the weeks following the race, Kumada often saw the girl hanging around the auto shop, sometimes accompanied by Matsuda, sometimes on her own. Even after her mother had broken up with the devastated young racer was the girl present at the track, even when Matsuda left Kumada's establishment was the girl present…  
  
Normally Kumada was not fond of children; a self-proclaimed recluse, he found it difficult to develop relationships with others regardless of their age…especially children. There were few people close to him, few people he could consider friends, he seemed content to avoid others outside of his close-knit circle…but there was something about that girl that intrigued him.  
  
Finally one day he decided to approach her. He had just finished a custom body job on a '67 Mustang, and was aware of the girl standing against the far wall.   
  
  
  
Not one for small talk, Kumada had gone straight to the point.  
  
"Hey kid, what are you doing?"   
  
She had looked at him in surprise; having seen him numerous times beforehand, this marked the first occasion that he had spoken to her.  
  
"I'm just watching," she had replied, direct and straightforward.  
  
Kumada had walked over to her; up close she looked younger than he had initially thought. Being so tall he had figured her to be at least ten or eleven, but up close he could see that he had been wrong.   
  
"You like cars?" he had asked her.  
  
Suddenly a big grin had appeared on her face. "Yeah, do I ever! I especially like racers, like that blue Porsche over there," she said, pointing to Kumada's personal favourite car, the car in which he had won the Okura District Championship driving.   
  
"Hey, that's my favourite, too. You know what model it is?"  
  
Her smile widened, "Of course! It's a 1985 Porsche 944 Turbo!"  
  
Kumada had been struck speechless; she had been dead on. Since it was a custom racer, the name of the car was not written above the bumper. Damn, the kid was good.  
  
"Yeah, that's right! You know, I won many a race with that car, do you want to take a look at it?"  
  
"Sure!" The girl had exclaimed, excitement colouring her cheeks pink.   
  
Kumada had shown the girl the car, asking her questions and testing her knowledge. He had been pleasantly surprised at her vast understanding of cars, and had been pleased with her enthusiasm on the subject and her desire to learn more. Kumada had spent the entire afternoon talking with the girl, and it wasn't until she was leaving that they got around to introducing themselves.   
  
  
  
So began the saga of Tenou Haruka and Kumada Akira.  
  
Haruka would visit Kumada's shop almost everyday after school, despite it being over an hours walk away.   
  
In the beginning, Haruka had just watched Kumada and the mechanics, but as time went on Kumada encouraged her to take part in the washing and deodorizing of the cars. Kumada gradually taught her to change the oil, how to repair engines and other assorted auto maintenance jobs. Finally he taught her to do bodywork. As a result, Haruka was as knowledgeable as a mechanic at the age of twelve.   
  
Kumada was also her racing coach; he had taught her at ten years on his old BMW R 75/6. Though only thirteen Haruka was able to ride Kumada's old motorcycle like a pro.   
  
Although Haruka and Kumada's relationship was based mainly on cars, there existed a stronger bond between them. Neither was particularly talkative or open about their personal lives or feelings, but as time went on both became aware of each other's personality traits and moods. If one was down, the other was able to recognise this and respond accordingly. They were able to offer comfort and support to each other without specifics, without details; words or explanations were unnecessary.   
  
Kumada was able to see through the mask that hid Haruka's true feelings from the world.   
  
*****  
  
Kumada stood in the area below the bleachers, watching the motorcyclist rip through the racetrack. A motorcyclist who possessed unbelievable talent, who was able to perform manoeuvres impossible to decipher, who rode as if the wind…  
  
Tenou Haruka sped around the arena, cutting a seriously close corner at break neck speed; even in his prime Kumada knew he wouldn't have been able to pull off a stunt like that.  
  
The bike screeched to a halt, and Haruka dismounted amidst a cloud of dust. Clad in a navy blue racing suit, she stood out amidst the surrounding smokescreen. She pulled off her helmet and tossed her head back, her long blond ponytail tumbling from her helmet and blowing in the wind. The expression on her face was close to rapture, the look only worn after a good race.   
  
She held her hand above her brow, squinting through the dust at the evening sky. Her features clouded over; apart from the race her troubles resurfaced and once again the events of the day troubled her as they had before. The race had only been an interlude, a brief escape from the difficulties and troubles that she faced everyday.  
  
Sighing, Haruka walked the bike out of the arena and into the garage; Kumada watched her departure with sympathy. He followed her soon after.  
  
Kumada found Haruka in the BMW's stall, polishing the blue vehicle until it shone. He smiled; despite her mood, Haruka could always be counted on to keep his motorcycle in top condition.  
  
So intent on the motorcycle was Haruka that she failed to notice Kumada step beside her kneeling form and rest his arm against the wall.  
  
"Hey Tenou, you were really looking good out there," he said; Haruka's head spun around in surprise and Kumada was shocked to see tears swimming in her blue-grey eyes.  
  
"Oh," he spoke, at a loss for words. Not once had he seen her cry, not once in the five years that he had known her.   
  
Quickly Haruka stood and turned her back to Kumada, too embarrassed to let him see her this way. She dug frantically through her pockets in search of a tissue. Upon finding none, she rubbed her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. The gesture struck Kumada as childlike but also as proud; she would not let anyone see her with her guard down.  
  
"Hey, Tenou, come on, what's wrong?" Kumada asked sympathetically, placing his hand on her shoulder…a shoulder almost level with his own yet much smaller, seeming almost vulnerable…  
  
"Nothing," she muttered, trying to escape his grasp, but he wouldn't let her.   
  
Kumada wouldn't permit her run from him. She kept too much bottled inside herself, and damned if he was going to let her endure this pain alone.  
  
"Come on, Tenou, talk to me," he pleaded, worry creeping into his voice, "I know something's wrong, you've been acting strange all day, please, talk to me…"  
  
"I said nothing's wrong!" she retaliated, her words harsh but her tone one of angst.   
  
He was not persuaded; he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and he felt her resistance dissolve.   
  
She hung her head; her small shoulders, usually straight and proud now slumped and defeated. Her long hair was spilling out of its ponytail and over her shoulders, the strands reaching past her waist…she hid behind her curtain of hair.  
  
"I…I can't, Kumada-san, I just can't…"she whispered, her voice heavy with pain and unshed anguish. She would not face him.   
  
"Hey, its OK, really, it is. You can talk to me, you know I won't judge you…"  
  
"I know," she replied, weakening but still stubborn. "I know that you won't laugh, or pass judgement, but…its just too personal."  
  
"You don't have to give details, Tenou, I know its not your way…but, can you give me the gist of it, at least?" He smiled sadly, "I know that you're hurting, I know you've been hurting for years…and I know that it's difficult to talk about. But it'll help if you can get some of it off your chest…please, Tenou, I'm here for you."  
  
She swallowed, and slowly turned around. The tears were shinning in her eyes, her hands were clenched into fists, and she bit down on her lower lip…struggling to stop the tears from falling. She would not cry in front of the one person she respected and valued as a friend.   
  
He led her towards the bench outside the garage looking out towards the arena. The slight evening breeze ruffled her hair; she bent her head up towards the sky as if searching for reassurance.  
  
They sat down beside one another, Kumada's form bent towards her, Haruka looking down; he grasped her right hand and applied slight pressure.  
  
The cool late winter air was a welcome presence outside of the unbearable heat of the garage. Outside the air was clean and refreshing, Haruka drew strength from the cool night and began.   
  
  
  
"I almost killed someone at school today,"  
  
Kumada gasped, started coughing, "You WHAT?! Almost killed someone at school! Come on, Tenou, seriously…"  
  
Haruka scowled and stood up, "I am serious! I thought that I could trust you…"  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry, Tenou, really! Sit back down; really, I'm sorry! But what do you expect my reaction to be when you tell me you almost killed someone?"  
  
She smiled wryly, "Hmm, I guess you have a point," she sat back down and stretched her long legs, looking up at the setting sun whimsically.   
  
"So, do you care to elaborate, or am I to assume you've gone off the deep end?" Kumada joked, trying to take pressure off the situation and put Haruka at ease.   
  
She smiled lightly at Kumada's efforts, but the smile did not reach her eyes. She appreciated that he was trying to make things easier, but at the same time felt as if it were useless to lighten the mood. Once he heard her out, Haruka doubted that he would be able to take things light-heartedly.   
  
"I guess I should try to explain…" she said, "It all started this morning…I can't go into details, but my Mom is upset with me for something…something for which I cannot help, or take control of, something inevitable yet still surprising to her…"  
  
Kumada raised his eyebrow slightly, "Was it something that you've done?"  
  
"No, not really…more like something that happened to me. I wanted to keep it to myself, but I needed her help, so I was forced to reveal it to her…"  
  
"And I can assume that she wasn't happy?"  
  
"Yeah, she certainly wasn't happy about it, but I can't exactly explain just how she felt towards me. She was…distant…not angry, not frustrated…disappointed, maybe? I'm not sure. Anyway, her reaction was kind of a downer, if you know what I mean. So when I got to school I wasn't in a very good mood."  
  
Kumada nodded sympathetically. "OK. So, you go to school, and you're upset, and then…"  
  
"Well, you know the thing that was bothering my mother? Because of this thing…I kind of vandalised something in the bathroom."  
  
"What? I'm not really following you, Tenou,"  
  
Haruka sighed, "I guess I can't explain myself if I leave out too much information, right? Ok, I'll try to break it to you, but promise not to get grossed out."  
  
"I promise. Jeez, Tenou, how bad could it possibly be?"   
  
"Just don't say I didn't warn you…I'll just say that this is something that happens when you grow older…to girls…"  
  
"I don't…Oh, shit…" Kumada turned a violent shade of red, and suddenly he found something about his shoes incredibly interesting.  
  
Haruka laughed, lessoning the tension. "Sorry, but if you weren't such an idiot I wouldn't have had to go into details…"  
  
There was a brief period of silence while Kumada regained his composure.  
  
"OK, so you were going through…your time of month…and you vandalised something in the bathroom…"  
  
"Yeah. So, during lunch hour, I was sitting outside, and I heard a scream. Now, being pissed off and edgy, my natural reaction was to release some of this anger I had been carrying around all day…so I went to investigate."  
  
Haruka took a deep breath, "I followed the direction that the scream had come from…and I saw this guy, Saeki, picking on a smaller boy. The boy was face down in a puddle of mud, and wasn't wearing any pants…"  
  
"Oh, Jesus, Tenou," Kumada groaned, feeling sick.  
  
"Yeah, my thoughts exactly…anyways, this Saeki seemed like an asshole (Kumada coughed, rather obviously), OK, he WAS an asshole, and he seemed like the perfect target. So I approached him, and made some crack about his manliness…  
  
Kumada moaned, "Tenou!"  
  
"Oh, come on, Kumada-san! I was desperate for a good fight! So, I insulted him, and he lunged at me to prove himself, or something…and I kicked his ass, as usual…and then he did something unexpected."  
  
She paused, weighing her words. However much she liked Kumada, there were some things that she couldn't tell him, some things that she couldn't even admit to herself…  
  
"What did he do?" asked Kumada softly.  
  
"He…he said something really cruel…something that hurt me, deep inside…and I retaliated the only way I could…" she looked down at her clasped hands, unable to meet his gaze, "…I strangled him until he passed out…and didn't stop until someone screamed. It was then that I realised just what I was doing…I saw Saeki below me, my arms grasping his throat…and he was blue, his face was fucking blue…"  
  
"Oh, shit, Tenou," said Kumada, feeling sick.  
  
"Around his neck…were bruises, and bruises were beginning to appear on his face…and his hands, they were curled into claws, and they were convulsing…"  
  
"Oh, sweet Jesus,"   
  
"And the worst thing was that I don't remember strangling him. My mind…after his words, my mind was so filled with pain that I was unaware of what I was doing…a blackout, or something…"  
  
Her hands were shaking, but still she continued, "I was so scared, I just couldn't believe what I had done. His pulse…it was so weak…I think that another thirty seconds would have finished him off. There was screaming all around me; I couldn't move, I was paralysed...even when I heard a teacher approaching I remained immobile. The teacher, he was flabbergasted, he just couldn't believe his eyes…started stuttering like a moron…he didn't know whether to help the kid in the mud, or Saeki…It was then that I was able to gain control of myself."  
  
Kumada was shocked. It was unbelievable how quickly control could be lost, how emotions could wreck havoc…  
  
"I was sent to the Principal's office. Principal Ozawa, I've mentioned him before…he hit the roof. Couldn't believe what I had done. Said that I almost killed Saeki. He looked like he wanted to hit me. He wanted to know just what the hell I was thinking, he demanded an answer, but I simply couldn't respond. He saw my silence as resistance, as indifference…and this only caused his anger to grow. He started going on about how bad seeds spawned bad offspring…he insulted my father, he insulted my mother, he called me a bastard…and still I couldn't answer. I just couldn't defend myself. He was right. I HAD almost killed Saeki; I deserved this shit…so I took it. Just it wasn't enough. He wanted to know why I did what I did."  
  
"Oh, Tenou," Kumada whispered, but Haruka was not finished.  
  
"I didn't understand what the hell I had been thinking…not really. All I knew was that Saeki had wounded me terribly, and I had retaliated the only way I knew how. I only knew that the pain he had inflicted struck me deep, in a place that I refused to acknowledge…"   
  
  
  
The part of her that she kept hidden from the world…and herself.  
  
"At this time the other teacher, the one who discovered the fight, interrupted…and damned if he didn't defend me. He claimed that I was defending the other kid; the one who Saeki had been picking on before I arrived…said that I might have saved the other kid's life. Apparently Saeki had beaten this poor kid almost as badly as I beat him…before he forced the kid to fuck the mud. This poor kid, he was epileptic, and he was having a seizure. Almost died. None of the bystanders offered any help. The kid, after his seizure, he collapsed in the mud…he couldn't get up, and the mud was blocking his airway. According to this teacher, if I hadn't interrupted Saeki's attack on this kid, then the kid would have suffocated."  
  
At this point Kumada was unable to take any more; his face was green and his eyes were wide with shock. He looked at the girl beside him, the girl he had known years, and realised for perhaps the first time just what kind of a world she lived in.   
  
"So what happened?" asked Kumada.  
  
"I was lucky. Considering the fact that I may have indirectly saved this kid's life, I managed to get off with only five days suspension. Ozawa was fit to be tied, but even he couldn't ignore the fact that I supposedly saved the kid's life. Poor kid, he was retarded, too."  
  
Haruka closed her eyes and enjoyed the cool breeze across her face. The weight of her words still hung in the air, and for the moment both simply remained in silence. Haruka needed this period to recover, Kumada to absorb what she had told him.  
  
Kumada was the first to break the silence. "How do you feel about this, Tenou?"  
  
She shrugged. "I'm not quite sure how I feel. On the one hand I'm glad that I was able to help this kid, but on the other hand…that wasn't the reason I got involved. The truth is that the reason I fought Saeki wasn't to save this kid, it was to release my frustrations. I didn't fight Saeki for anything but selfish purposes. I was looking for a fight, and Saeki just happened to be around. I didn't give a shit about the kid; I didn't know the extent of his injuries, I didn't know that he was retarded or epileptic, and most importantly I didn't know that his life was in danger. The fact that I may have saved the kid doesn't make up for the fact that I could have killed Saeki. How do I feel? Pretty damn bad about myself."  
  
It was at this point that Kumada embraced her. Both were surprised; theirs was not a physical relationship. But it felt right. Haruka felt his arms around her, and she felt the frustration and pain of her day fall from her shoulders. Kumada held her close, this poor, fucked up kid without anyone to turn towards.   
  
They did not part until the last light of day disappeared.  
  
*****  
  
Through the streets she ventured, heedless of all but the route before her. The sounds of laughter came from the shadows. Haruka picked up her pace as the laughter grew louder.   
  
The streets of East Osaka were dangerous after darkness fell.  
  
Despite Kumada's protests, Haruka had insisted that she was able to walk home. She had been too much of a burden already.   
  
Haruka shoved her hands into her worn jean jacket, cursing that she hadn't thought to wear gloves. Although winter was nearly over, the nights were still cold. As a result she was ill prepared for the current temperature, being that she had planned on returning home before dark. Of course, nothing happened according to plan today…  
  
"Stupid," she cursed herself, recalling her actions earlier that evening. Pouring her heart out to Kumada…sure, he was her friend, but he was a guy. Now he probably thought of her being weak, being clingy…he probably thought worse of her.  
  
The wind blew her hair about her shoulders; it had come undone. Her long skirt whipped around her legs; her blouse was rumpled and the bow was askew. Haruka grimaced; her mother was sure to be displeased with her appearance. She was a mess. Her mother…  
  
"Oh, shit!" she cursed angrily; suddenly remembering her mother's words that morning. How her mother had wanted to talk to her.   
  
Her mother was going to be really pissed. For starters, Haruka had been suspended from school for fighting. Again. Secondly, she was late and finally, she looked like hell. Just perfect. Her mother was going to kill her.  
  
Haruka turned on to her street. She walked past the familiar buildings she had known since childhood, unchanged but for thirteen years of neglect. Tall, ugly apartment buildings, rectangular warehouses and sleazy strip malls. Discarded food wrappers, piles of grey melting snow, old rusty cars and other assorted debris littered the streets.   
  
"Akin to a junk yard," she thought cynically.  
  
She slowed as she reached the last apartment on the block; fourteen stories, dingy red brick, chipped paint, broken windows…home sweet home.  
  
"Might as well get this over with," muttered Haruka under her breath.   
  
  
  
She stepped through the door, walked up eleven flights of stairs, and opened the door. Ready to face the consequences of her actions, however harsh they may be.  
  
She opened the door.  
  
Her mother was positioned before her. Obviously awaiting her return, as she was seated in the entranceway. Arms folded across her breasts. Face set in disapproval. Shit.  
  
Kotano was dressed in an elegant lavender robe, and her hair was held high on her head with tortoiseshell combs. Always the model, looking at her no one would guess of her poverty. Kotano relished in her appearance, and the appearances of others…  
  
She grimaced at the state her daughter was in.  
  
"So you've finally arrived," she said coldly, eyes scanning her daughter's crumpled uniform critically.  
  
Haruka lowered her eyes, "Yeah. Sorry I'm late…"  
  
"Late? You're beyond late, Haruka! Do you realise just what time it is?" her mother walked towards her daughter, and they stood inches apart.   
  
"I…"  
  
Kotano would not let her finish, "It is past midnight! I told you to be home at ten, no later! Just what the hell are you thinking, roaming the streets so late at night?"   
  
"Mom," she started, but again Kotano interrupted.  
  
"Do you realise just how dangerous it is to be out this late?" Kotano's voice rose, "Why, just last week a girl not much older than you was attacked not three blocks from here…found the next day with a bullet in her head."  
  
Haruka was silent. There was no sense in interrupting her mother once she got started.  
  
"It seems like every few weeks someone is attacked, and what do you do? You make yourself a walking target! Staying out so late…and just guess what pleasant surprise was waiting for me when I got home?"  
  
  
  
Haruka gulped. Here it comes…  
  
"Fighting! You've been fighting, again! How many times have I come home from a hard day of work, only to hear a message from your principal? Jesus Christ, five days suspension, five days suspension! This is your sixth suspension this term alone! Just what the hell is wrong with you?" Kotano was actually yelling, actually screaming. Her usually calm demeanour had diminished; all self-restraint and poise had vanished. Her face was red, her eyes flashing; she was positively livid.  
  
"Just what the hell is wrong with you?"... The words echoed through Haruka's head. The question so many people asked her. What's wrong with you, Tenou? Why do you do the things you do? Why do you get into fights, why do you dress so sloppily, why do you hang around at the garage, why aren't you like other girls…  
  
  
  
"I…"she could not answer. There was no answer. Why did she do the things she did? Why did she go looking for fights? She had enough battles going on in her life…why did she go looking for more? Why did she pursue others in search of a fight? She had to fight for everything she had; her life was a constant struggle, so why would she add to her troubles?   
  
Haruka recalled the words her principal had spoken, words that hurt deeply.  
  
"You are nothing but a burden," he had said, condemning her, "nothing but a lead weight around the necks of those responsible for you. People like you…they never get anywhere in life. Born to self-destruct, bound towards failure…just like your father."  
  
Just like her father.   
  
Oh, how those words had hurt! They had pierced through her armour, broken through her resistance! Why was it that words had the power to maim? The power to do what mere flesh wounds could not?  
  
And yet she was powerless. Powerless to fight the onset of words, the onset of truth…  
  
"Haruka! Just what have you to say for yourself?"  
  
What could she say? That she fought to fulfill an unknown need, that it was her way of standing firm, of refusing to give in? She fought…because if she did not, she would drown. In order to survive, she must fight. Cursed to be different, to be born into this world, a world unyielding towards her, which tried to drag her down…  
  
  
  
She was a survivor; born into this world of deceit and betrayal, of anguish and pain, of past battles unresolved. She adapted to her circumstances, a built in survival mechanism. If she did not fight, if she did not forbear, if she offered no resistance, then she would perish as her father had before her.  
  
Ozawa was wrong. She was not like her father. There was a crucial difference; Haruka was willing to fight, whereas her father was not. Her father was not a fighter; he had given up, and as a result had been destroyed. Haruka, however, would never be destroyed; she would fight, she would not cave in, she would battle the world if need be…  
  
The only true destruction is internal; only when you give up are you defeated. If you stood your ground, if you had self-conviction…then you would triumph.   
  
She was not powerless; others could condemn her, they could say as they chose fit, but no one could make her accept their words. Only Haruka herself could make those decisions. It was within her power to interpret what others said; she could either discard their words or accept them. It was her choice. She was not powerless; she would never be powerless unless she chose to believe herself so.  
  
Though this was all true of Haruka, it didn't mean that she was unable to be hurt. That she was unable to make mistakes. That she was able to completely disregard society's opinions. She was only thirteen, and still unsure of herself and her abilities. She had made a mistake: she had gone too far, and as a result needed to accept the consequences.   
  
Accepting the consequences of your actions, accepting when you have been wrong, these are also signs of strength. Accepting your own mistakes is not the same as giving in; by accepting the consequences of one's actions can one learn from the experience, and grow stronger.  
  
Haruka would not run. She had made a mistake, and she needed to accept the penalty of her actions.   
  
With great strength did she raise her eyes and meet her mother's gaze.   
  
"I don't know what I was thinking, Mom, but I realise that I was wrong…I'm sorry."  
  
Kotano was surprised; she had expected denial, she had expected resistance, she had expected anything but acceptance of the situation and regret.  
  
She looked at her daughter, really looked at her…and felt the same feeling she had that morning.  
  
  
  
Kotano realised that she did not know who her daughter was.  
  
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps could be heard coming from Kotano's bedroom. Both turned their heads towards the direction of the sound. Haruka tried to pass her mother, but Kotano took her arm.  
  
"Haruka, there's something I have to tell you," she began, and suddenly, horribly, Haruka knew why her mother wanted her home early that night. What her mother had wanted to talk to her about…  
  
"No," she whispered, her face growing paler as the full implication of what was happening dawned upon her.  
  
"I wanted to tell you before, but you were late," Kotano said, regretfully, "I wanted you to know before…"  
  
Haruka looked past her mother, and saw a large suitcase partially concealed behind the door that leads to the kitchen. She saw a pair of large black shoes next to the coat rack…on which a large coat hung. A suitcase, a man's coat, a man's shoes…   
  
And there, appearing in the hallway was the figure of a large man: tall, with a shock of black hair and gleaming dark eyes. A man with a cruelly handsome face stood beside her mother. The man smirked at the scene before him. The man possessively wrapped his arm around her mother's waist.  
  
Kotano sighed; the man grinned.  
  
"So this is the daughter I've heard so much about," he said, grinning at the baffled Haruka. "Looks just like her mother."  
  
Haruka just stared, stared at this strange man embracing her mother, stared at this strange man wearing nothing but boxers and a t-shirt. Suddenly the nausea returned with a vengeance; she felt faint, the room spun rapidly…  
  
"Haruka," said her mother, "I'd like you to meet Hoshino Fujio."  
  
*******  
  
{Whew! This chapter was particularly difficult to write because of the two new characters! I appreciate the feedback and comments that people have given me so far, and look forward to hearing what you think of the newest instalment!  
  
BTW, the title "Kaze mo Sora mo Kitto" means The Wind, The Sky, Always in Japanese. It is the title of the closing theme of Sailor Stars.}  
  
-Brandt 


	9. Kaze mo Sora mo Kitto 3

Hoshino Fujio. Her mother took this man into her life, into her home. Into her bed.  
  
It was rather obvious that they were intimate; Hoshino was in his underwear and had come out of her mother's bedroom. Not to mention how Hoshino cupped Kotano's ass, not to mention how he stuck his tongue in her ear, not to mention the huge lump in his boxers…  
  
Haruka watched the man's display with revulsion, disgust written across her face. How her mother could let that man touch her so intimately was beyond her. Haruka wanted to stop him, wanted to hurt him…but restrained herself.   
  
Kotano gave him a look, and he laughed. "Sorry, babe, my hands must have a mind of their own."  
  
Hoshino grinned slyly, pinched Kotano's ass, and winked at Haruka.  
  
That did it. Haruka stormed past them angrily, towards her room. She could not bear to watch that man manhandle her mother.  
  
"Haruka, wait," called her mother, but Hoshino interrupted her.  
  
"Just let the kid go, babe. Why don't we go to bed, and leave the introductions for later?"  
  
Haruka slammed her door with incredible force; the house rattled and the doorframe cracked. Bastard!  
  
Seething, she kicked her shoes off, and they hit the closet door with a bang. She moved towards her dresser and started hurling her numerous sports trophies. She probably had over 100…none survived.   
  
Not enough, never enough! She slammed her fist through the wall, she kicked her dresser, she threw herself on her bed and started beating her fists against the pillow…  
  
And still the rage possessed her.  
  
"What the fuck is going on?" Yelled Hoshino; Haruka threw her bedside lamp against the door and the bastard's voice was drowned in the sound of breaking ceramic.   
  
  
  
"Haruka!" cried her mother, and Haruka heard her footsteps approaching her door.   
  
Quick as a flash, Haruka pushed her dresser against the door. The damn lock had been broken for the longest time.  
  
  
  
Someone started banging on the door; the desperate, pleading voice of her mother and the angry, threatening voice of Hoshino could be heard coming from behind it. Haruka covered her head with her hands.  
  
"Haruka! Haruka! What's wrong with you?"  
  
"Hey, you stupid brat! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Shut UP!" she screamed, and hurled her 'athlete of the year' medal at the door.   
  
She couldn't take this. After everything that had happened today, this was just too much. She quickly changed from her uniform into a pair of worn jeans and a baggy red sweater, opened her window, and climbed through it.   
  
The narrow ledge would hold her weight; she had done this before. With the skill of a gymnast, Haruka jumped from the window and grasped the drainpipe with both hands. She climbed the narrow pole with expertise, not giving the eleven-floor drop a passing thought.   
  
She reached the end of the drainpipe. Effortlessly she swung from the pipe and landed on the roof of the apartment.   
  
The rage that claimed her began to lose its power. On the roof, she was able to let go of her problems; she was able to emerge from her pain.  
  
Here she was free to be herself.   
  
From fourteen stories above the ground she stood, the world at her feet. The sky was dark but for the twinkling lights of the city. From here the city looked different: the filth of the streets hidden below, beyond her range of vision. Here, she was closer to the sky than the ground, here she heard nothing but the wind rustling through her ears, here she felt nothing but the caress of the wind against her cheek. Here there was no prejudice, no hate, no laughter, no scorn. Here she was able to reflect upon her life.  
  
Below…her mother and that horrible man, Saeki and the others like him, Ozawa and the faculty, those who condemned her, those who ostracized her, those who hurt her…  
  
They couldn't touch her.  
  
Haruka sat on the edge of the building, and gazed outside her own world of poverty and oppression, to the centre of Osaka and beyond, where wealth and prosperity reigned.   
  
How was it that none were born equal? How was it that some were blessed whereas others were cursed?   
  
Who decided whether one was to succeed or to fail? Who decided whether one was to have opportunities or to have hardships?  
  
Why was it that there were others who were loved, who were understood, who were protected…when there were others unloved, misunderstood and threatened?   
  
There was no logic, no formula, of course. No matter how often she pondered the mysteries of life, no answer became clear. So many things were unexplained. Was life random or predetermined? Was life a test or a punishment?   
  
The wind held no answers, but offered comfort. On the roof, above the ground, tomorrow had no meaning. The difficulties that she had left below were of no consequence. Nothing mattered here, she could forget…if only for a brief interlude. The same feeling she experienced driving, the same feeling she experienced running, the feeling of power, the feeling of escape…  
  
Her sanctuary.   
  
She gazed out towards the horizon, and felt the wind blowing around her.  
  
  
  
The day she had become a woman her world had changed. Yet, life's mysteries remained unsolved. She had gained no wisdom but only new obstacles and new battles.   
  
  
  
Haruka looked up at the sky, and felt the familiar feeling of escape coming over her. Her problems began to slip away as she entered her haven.  
  
Nothing mattered but here and now.  
  
*****  
  
  
  
She awakened the next morning in her room with no recollection of how she had got there. The events of the previous night were distorted; she remembered an argument, trashing her room, going out on the roof, and pondering the meaning of life…  
  
As always, she was unable to recall anything past the moment when she became the wind.  
  
Groggily she opened her eyes. And sat up with a start. The chaos from the night before greeted her.   
  
"Holy shit!" she gasped as the full extent of the damage was revealed to her.  
  
Her closet door was full of dark marks, there were numerous holes in the wall, there were indents in her dresser, and her many trophies and medals were scattered in pieces on the floor. The door had also been torn off its hinges.  
  
Her mother was going to murder her.  
  
She had been so upset last night that she hadn't thought to ponder the consequences of her actions. Now, the full realisation of what she had done hit her. The room was totalled.  
  
Through the doorway walked her mother. Shit.  
  
Kotano surveyed the damage with a pained expression on her beautiful face.  
  
  
  
Haruka suddenly felt incredibly guilty. Her mother had a hard enough time as it was…and for her to destroy her room, on top of all the other trouble she had gotten into yesterday…  
  
Kotano sat on the edge of Haruka's bed, saying nothing. Just looking at the girl whom she had given birth to, as if she didn't recognise her own daughter.  
  
Haruka was conscious of how haggard she must have appeared; she tried to fix her hair, but her mother took her hand.  
  
Kotano looked at the hand in her palm, the hand once so small but now longer than her own. She ran her fingers through her daughter's long, wheat coloured hair and smoothed the unruly strands. Kotano lifted her hand to her daughter's cheek, and held her face softly. Kotano looked deep into her daughter's blue-grey eyes…similar to Okura's but for the green rim around the iris. Her daughter.  
  
Haruka could hardly breathe. She could not remember the last time her mother had touched her so gently, or the last time her mother had looked at her so deeply. She was starved for affection, the gentle touches fulfilled a deep need. Haruka looked at her mother lovingly, loving the feel of her hands on her face, loving the feeling of being taken care of.   
  
Kotano placed her hand over her daughter's shoulder and gently massaged it. Haruka closed her eyes, enjoying the gentle pressure. It felt so good to be touched, but too soon her mother stopped.  
  
Haruka opened her eyes questionably, and was shocked to see tears swimming in her mother's eyes.  
  
"Mom," she whispered, suddenly afraid. Oh, God, what had she done now?  
  
Kotano wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Sorry, Haruka…I don't know what's come over me. I guess the last twenty four hours have been hard on us both." She smiled shakily. "You gave us quite a scare last night, you know,"  
  
The guilt increased tenfold.  
  
  
  
"I did?" she asked.  
  
"Of course, silly, what do you think? You were screaming and throwing things, Haruka! I was afraid that you'd hurt yourself! I was so scared that I told Fujio-san to break the door down! When he did, how do you think I felt when I saw that you weren't there? That the window was open? For one horrible moment I thought…"  
  
"Oh, Mom," Haruka moaned, and buried her face in her pillow.   
  
"I was distraught, we almost called the police…but when we returned to your room…there you were, asleep. Jesus, Haruka! Don't you ever frighten me like this again!"  
  
Kotano was shaking; Haruka embraced her and held her close. Oh, God, how could she have been so inconsiderate?  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, miserably, "I'm so sorry, Mom, I'll never do it again…"  
  
Her mother smiled through her tears. "When I look at you, I see that you've grown considerably. It seems that only yesterday you were a child…how is it that you've changed without me noticing? I see you, but I don't…where is the child I once held in my arms?"  
  
Haruka did not know how to respond. How could she respond to a statement like that?  
  
"You've always been a mystery to me, Haruka. It seems that I've never been able to understand you. I see the things you've done, but I don't see the meaning behind your actions. In your face, I see pieces of myself, pieces of your father…but nothing beyond."  
  
"What…are you saying?" asked Haruka anxiously.  
  
Kotano ran her fingers through her daughter's hair. "I am saying that it is hard for me to grasp just who you are. Don't look at me that way, I don't mean to hurt you. I just find it difficult to understand you…but that doesn't mean that I don't care. I am trying to look past the things you've done, and see the meaning behind them…but am unable to."  
  
"I don't fully understand myself," Haruka replied.  
  
"I know," her mother soothed, holding her daughter's head in her lap. "I know that you're confused, and I know that you're hurting…and although I don't understand you, I still care. When I saw the open window last night, for one horrible moment I thought that I'd lost you,"  
  
"I'm sorry…"  
  
"It was not until that moment that I realised just how much I cared, and how much you meant to me. Why is it the threat of losing someone that shows you just what they mean to you?" Kotano suddenly looked remorseful.  
  
"You do mean a lot to me, Haruka. I know that I can seem unsympathetic at times, but please let me assure you that you are important to me. I don't do the things I do to hurt you…"  
  
"I know, Mom," she replied sadly.   
  
It was true, Haruka did know that her mother cared for her, but it still hurt that she only showed her affections when it pleased her. Even though the knowledge was reassuring, Haruka still needed attention more than once every few months. She needed her mother everyday, she needed her mother to listen to her and be there for her always. It was hard being alone, and the occasional affections she received from her mother only made the void deeper afterwards. The longing, the need for love and affection, it could not be fulfilled by infrequent occurrences. Haruka wanted her mother by her side always…but Kotano always distanced herself eventually. Then, she was alone again.   
  
Kotano looked around the room, absorbing the damage. "I must say that I'm unhappy about the state of your room, but material things can be replaced. I'm just happy that you're safe."  
  
Kotano rose from the bed and straightened her skirt. "Now, there is another matter that I must discuss with you…"  
  
"Oh, shit," moaned Haruka.  
  
Kotano shot her a dark glance. "Language, please. I am referring to Fujio-san, of course. Whether you like it or not, he's moved in with us."  
  
Haruka buried herself under her covers, not wanting to hear what her mother was going to say. Oh, God! When her mother had held her, Haruka had completely forgotten about Hoshino. She couldn't bear to hear her mother swoon over this new man of hers.  
  
"Young lady, don't you hide from me!" yelled Kotano, and with a swift motion pulled the blanket off the bed. Haruka desperately hid her head under her pillow. Her mother scowled and smacked her daughter lightly on the butt.  
  
"Hey!" Haruka exclaimed, mortified.  
  
"Seriously, Tenou Haruka! You are thirteen years old! Stop behaving like such a child!"  
  
Her mother did have a point. She was a bit old to be acting so childishly. Especially considering that she was about four inches taller than her mother and weighed about the same…Sighing with resignation, Haruka sat up on the edge of the bed and prepared herself for the inevitable.   
  
"That's better. Now, you are old enough to understand the relationships that go on between a man and a woman…"  
  
No! Don't talk about sex, anything but sex!  
  
"Um, yes…they taught us ALL about that at school," said Haruka cautiously, putting heavy emphasis on the word 'all'. The last thing she wanted to hear about was her mother's sex life.  
  
"And you are aware that many couples do not abide by society's laws in regards to marriage…"  
  
Haruka snorted. "Of course I am! You and Dad weren't exactly married, either,"  
  
Her mother scowled, "Don't be so brazen, Haruka! I guess I should be relieved that you're so worldly, but I do not have to put up with your insolence!"  
  
A sly grin crept onto her face. Haruka loved the rise she could get out of her mother.  
  
"And wipe that smirk off your face! Geez, to be judged by my own daughter…" Kotano placed her hands on her hips, and gave her daughter a very angry look.  
  
This only served to widen Haruka's grin.   
  
Kotano threw up her hands in frustration. "Ok, Ok, enough with the joking! I don't know what you find so funny…our 'premarital agreement' puts you in a bad light, too,"  
  
("Your father's a fraud and your mother's a whore…you're nothing but a bastard…")  
  
Haruka's smile suddenly disappeared as she recalled what Principal Ozawa had said regarding the subject…  
  
  
  
("…nothing but a bastard…")  
  
"…ruka…Haruka! Are you listening to me?"  
  
Haruka was aware that her mother was looking at her strangely. She pushed all thoughts on Ozawa's words from her mind, and focused her attention on her mother.  
  
"Sorry, Mom, what was that you said?"   
  
Kotano exhaled with exasperation. "I asked you if you had any questions."   
  
Any questions?   
  
"Uh, yeah," she replied sardonically, "Just one. Who the hell is this guy?"  
  
Kotano was not amused by her daughter's candour, as confirmation her eyebrows narrowed and her lips thinned.   
  
"A contractor," her mother said, "Who's hard on his luck."  
  
Meaning the bastard had no job and no means of supporting himself. Maybe Haruka was cynical, but after her life experiences, she had reason to doubt this man.  
  
"He's in the midst of a divorce…" her mother had explained, "He and his wife are currently fighting over their finances…  
  
"Do you have anything to do with that?" asked Haruka outright.  
  
"Haruka!" her mother was mortified, but Haruka couldn't help but notice a faint blush colouring her mother's cheeks.  
  
"Sorry, sorry…so, how'd you meet him?  
  
"Well, I met him when I was working…  
  
Always an ideal location to met the man of your dreams, in a dingy bar, thought Haruka with cynicism   
  
"…he ordered, we talked, on the bill he left his phone number…"  
  
Oh! The romance!  
  
"I didn't accept the first time, but damned if he didn't start coming everyday, even asked my boss for my schedule! He was so persistent…I thought it was so romantic!" Kotano smiled softly.   
  
Haruka disagreed; she considered it to be more akin to stalking, but she kept her mouth shut.   
  
"I accepted after he refused to let me leave the restaurant without an answer…" her mother sighed wistfully, "after that, he wouldn't let me out of his sight."  
  
A strange feeling grew within Haruka; she didn't like the sound of this. Not one bit.  
  
"But why has he moved in? I mean, you've had *tons* of other boyfriends before…what makes this guy so special?"  
  
"Honestly, Haruka, must you phrase things so tactlessly? I guess you're too young to understand, but when you fall in love…"and here her tone changed from angry to tender, "…nothing matters but that person. You want to spend all your time with them, you never want to be apart…"  
  
"Wow, Mom, I didn't know you were such a sucker for clichés," remarked Haruka scornfully but as Kotano's mind was occupied with thoughts of love, her daughter's tone was ignored.  
  
"Oh, how did you get to be so cynical?" Kotano teased, obviously still thinking about Hoshino, "One day, you'll meet a nice boy, and then you'll see just what I mean."  
  
Haruka did not respond.  
  
"Fujio-san's the first man I've fallen for since your father, the first man who has kept my interest…"  
  
"But why?" asked Haruka angrily, "What's so great about him?"  
  
"Well, he is incredibly handsome, not as handsome as your father was, but he's a different type. He's…he's…oh, I can't explain, I'll tell you when your older."  
  
"Please don't," Haruka muttered, not taken in by her mother's infatuation.   
  
"Haruka, must I remind you yet again about your insolence?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, sorry." She sighed. Just what was so appealing about an unemployed, domineering man in the midst of a divorce? Sure, he may have been handsome…but was that enough to base a relationship on? Not for the first time, Haruka wished her mother was not so superficial.   
  
"I think that if you just give him a chance, you'll grow to like him…"  
  
Haruka snorted. Like him? Like hell she would! This guy was a total dick!  
  
"But Mom, he was such an asshole last night…"  
  
"Oh, Haruka, you must forgive him for that. You see, he has no idea how to act around children, and he was a bit drunk…and you weren't exactly polite, either. He shouldn't have been so rude…but I brawled him out about that."  
  
This guy sure sounded like a real prince. He was unemployed, an adulterer (probably), domineering, he gets drunk (all the time, most likely), he hates children (or doesn't know how to act around them, same difference), he gets hard-ons in public (or at least in front of innocent bystanders), he was an asshole (obviously)…the list was endless.   
  
"I know that you two got off to a rough start, but can you just let bygones be bygones? Can you give him another chance? For me?  
  
Oh, shit, the guilt trip. 'For me', meaning 'Can you be nice to him for me? Can you accept him into our family, for me? Do you love me, because if you do, you want me to be happy, right?'   
  
Haruka was given a powerful weapon, the weapon to sabotage her mother's relationship between her and her lover. If she decided to use this weapon, maybe her mother would give Hoshino up. But what of the consequences?  
  
Haruka was not known to be a rational thinker, the previous days events as an example of her compulsiveness. But this was a serious decision. Her gut reaction was to shout her suspicions, to criticize the relationship, to drive this guy out of their lives with a vengeance. But…her compulsive behaviour frequently got her in trouble, and too often she had done something and then regretted it immediately afterwards. And what evidence did she have, beside her interpretations of a ten second conversation? She hadn't responded appropriately, either, so could she really hold his response against him? Could she sabotage the relationship because of her own misgivings?  
  
Personal opinions aside, Haruka had to admit that her mother had seemed happier the last few weeks. And this morning…she was positively glowing as she spoke of Hoshino. What was worse? Having to deal with some strange guy, or having her mother be miserable? What was the greater evil?  
  
Haruka loved her mother, despite her selfishness, despite her tendency to ignore her for months at a time, despite her superficiality. And because she loved her, she wanted her to be happy. Internal forces struggled deep within her; she was confused, she didn't know just how to deal with a situation such as this.   
  
Should she voice her suspicions? Should she point out her opinions, and as a result strain the relationship between she and her mother, a relationship on shaky ground already? Should she be difficult, and sabotage the relationship between Hoshino and her mother?  
  
No, she couldn't. Another battle, a top of many, was too much for her to bear. Personal opinions aside, she had no solid evidence against Hoshino. And would her mother even listen to her seriously? She doubted it. Between the choice of her lover or her daughter's happiness, Haruka was sure that her mother would choose Hoshino. And Haruka was hesitant to sabotage her own relationship with her mother. This was an opportunity to show her mother her support, to show her mother that she was mature enough to think of the feelings of others.   
  
Haruka had made her decision. Sure, she resented this Hoshino for invading their lives, but considering the consequences, she would retreat. She would step aside, and let the relationship between her mother and Hoshino follow its course.   
  
A mature decision, but was it the right one? Only time would tell.  
  
"Mom," Haruka spoke slowly, weighing her words, "I…just want you to be happy.   
  
Kotano breathed a sigh of relief; she had been so sure that her daughter was going to be difficult.   
  
"I'm so happy that you understand, Haruka," said her mother, and kissed her on the forehead. "Just as soon as you're dressed, come into the kitchen, and I'll introduce you two properly."  
  
She began to leave the room, but turned around as she exited through the doorway. "I'm just positive that everything's going to work out for the best." And then she was gone.   
  
Haruka wasn't exactly optimistic, but things could hardly get any worse.  
  
Could they?  
  
*****  
  
How to describe the epic meeting between Tenou Haruka and Hoshino Fujio? How to describe what was to be the breakdown of the family, the devastation of all three lives, the beginning of the end?   
  
First impressions were seldom incorrect.   
  
As was the case in this situation, Haruka's initial opinion remained unchanged. However, now she possessed evidence to back her opinion rather than theory.   
  
Hoping to make a good impression (for her mother's sake), Haruka dressed with care. Instead of her usual torn jeans and baggy sweatshirts, she chose a pair of moderately dressy black pants and a blue ribbed turtleneck sweater, both purchased by her mother for some athletic banquet the previous year. So what if the pants were six inches too short, or the sleeves reached her elbows? It was the thought that counted, right?  
  
She tried to fix her hair, she really did…but it kept slipping from her fingers. She tried piling it up on top of her head, only the entire bun collapsed when she moved. She tried braiding it, but she was unable to see behind her head and as a result the braid was entirely on the left side of her head. She tried curling her bangs around the hairbrush; it took her five minutes to untangle them. Defeated, Haruka simply tied her heavy hair back with an elastic band and ran her fingers through her long bangs. The hair was a lost cause.   
  
Haruka was nervous about this second meeting. The night before they had parted on very bad terms…she distinctly recalled Hoshino calling her a 'brat' of some sort. She also remembered telling him to shut up…  
  
But Haruka was willing to make an effort for her mother's sake.   
  
She walked into the kitchen, and was greeted by her mother's shocked expression and harsh words.  
  
"Haruka, what on earth are you wearing?" she had asked, jaw agape. Haruka was confused; hadn't she dressed in her finest?  
  
Evidently not according to her mother. Despite Haruka's protests, Kotano was convinced that her daughter wore that ridiculously small outfit as an act of defiance towards her lover. But it hardly mattered; when Hoshino finally arrived he was clad in nothing but a pair of faded jeans and he looked unable to tell his face from his ass.  
  
Apparently poor Hoshino had been so upset that he had been unable to sleep all night, her mother hastily explained. But Haruka saw through her mother's flimsy excuses; poor Hoshino was actually too hung-over to stand straight.  
  
Suffice it to say, the meeting had gone steadily downhill from this point.  
  
Hoshino was too impaired to follow a simple conversation, Haruka gave up after the third attempt, and Kotano just said excuse after excuse to justify Hoshino's behaviour.   
  
The meeting ended abruptly after Hoshino threw up all over himself-and Kotano. Haruka had been too disgusted for words; she simply grabbed her jacket and bolted through the front door.  
  
A real Prince was this Hoshino Fujio.  
  
Amazing the effects a first (and second) impression could have on a relationship. But as the saying goes, first impressions are usually correct, and they are a reliable way to determine one's character.  
  
The case of Hoshino was no exception.  
  
*****  
  
{Note to reader(s): I'm sorry if my story seems cruel towards Haruka…when I write, sometimes I'm shocked with the stuff I come up with. She's really my favourite character, and I don't like to see her in pain, but I believe that if she was born into an average family like Usagi's, well…then she'd be a lot more like Usagi! To become who she is I believe that she had fought her share of battles, and experienced her share of pain…Sorry if it's unpleasant to read. I promise that she'll have a bit of happiness in the near future :)  
  
BTW, thanks to all who have continued reading. As always, comments and reviews, positive or negative, are greatly appreciated! It's the only way I'll learn.} Auf Wiedersehen!  
  
-Brandt 


	10. Kaze mo Sora mo Kitto 4

Everything to me was just the world spread out before my eyes. Whatever the past, it became small while shining inside the mirror. The dirty sky... The echoes of the train... The noise of daytime... Everything around becoming a flowing line and flying off.   
  
The remaining white moon... The rays of light brimming over... The sweet shape... of the girls' hands... Everything around becoming a flowing line and breaking off.   
  
At that time I will become the wind. I will become a wind prettier than anyone. I will become a wind stronger than anything.   
  
With my hands on the wheel, stepping on the gas... My chest throbs... The ultra-high-speed world. That is the one space that's just mine.   
  
For me to be me... I cut through the haze of heat. Sweat slowly pours down. Exposed to the light, the world is fully exposed. That is the one space that's just mine. For me to not be me...   
  
High above, the clouds blow about over the vivid aquamarine sea. While I seek after it so much that I feel longing, I still feel like letting go sometimes. The dream I have in my heart... I pursue it so much that it hurts, but I still want to destroy it sometimes. The future I have in my heart... What on earth is it I keep running for? Just how far will I keep running?   
  
The jet disappeared into the setting sun. It soared past, leaving two bold lines in the sky. Like it was searching for an exit, my gasping heart then gave an answer for the first time. If I don't keep running, I won't be able to see anything. If I don't keep running, nothing will end. If I just finish once... If I just get the checkered flag once... At that time I will become the wind. I will become a wind prettier than anyone. I will become a wind stronger than anything.  
  
(Poem: Haruka "Uranus-Neptune-Chibimoon Plus" Translated by Alex Glover, from http://www.sailormusic.net)   
  
*****  
  
No matter how horrific a circumstance, it is possible for one to become accustomed if one has the will to do so. Survival begins internally; if one gives up, then one is lost. Mind over matter, willpower over circumstance…  
  
Adaptation.  
  
As a survivor, Haruka was able to adapt to her new situation, albeit grudgingly. What other alternative was there, other than giving up?  
  
Haruka did not give up.  
  
Following Hoshino's union with her mother, life on the surface remained consistent. Everyday followed the same schedule. Nothing significant happened during this time period.  
  
Of course, beneath the surface, the winds changed direction as life continued on its new path. There was a brief interlude of tranquility, but Haruka could feel the sea retreat.  
  
The prelude to a tsunami?  
  
Hoshino was a slob; he left his filthy underwear lying on the bathroom floor. Hoshino was a pig; he ate the most disgusting, greasy take-out food and always seemed to have a can of beer within his reach. Hoshino was crude; he told dirty jokes and made sexual comments to Kotano in front of her daughter. Hoshino was lazy; he'd either lie around the house or go out clubbing. So why was it that Kotano was so firmly wrapped around his finger?  
  
For the life of her, Haruka could not believe that her mother would fall for such a pitiful man. What was it about Hoshino that her mother found irresistible?   
  
Although Hoshino was not an unattractive man, he was not particularly striking. He was too large and brutish to be considered handsome, his face was disproportioned, and his nose was too large and off centre. Kotano was incredibly superficial; she would only date a man whose looks she deemed exceptional. So what was it about Hoshino than attracted her?   
  
  
  
His sexual drive. Hoshino was no great beauty, yet despite his imperfect features, there was something sexually exiting about the man. He possessed a raw sexual drive, crude and barbaric but undeniable. Despite his abrasive personality, his sloppiness and poor hygiene...despite his cruel, harsh looks, there was something sexual about the man. His gaze could be so intense…he'd look at you with his startling ebony eyes, a stare no woman could resist. He'd undress you with his eyes…and you'd like it. He'd make some offensive comment, and you'd laugh, secretly pleased. He'd embrace you to him, thrusting his body against yours… and all restraint would leave you, he'd consume you with reckless passion until you were left completely at his mercy. He'd use you until you had nothing left to give, and he'd hurt you, manipulate you into self-loath. You'd hear his words, see the disgust behind those eyes, and you'd apologise, and then he'd leave. You would be left alone, naked and crying, desperate…and still you would want him. The longing, so intense…despite his cruelty, no, because of his cruelty, you'd want him even more. The longing would be so intense that you'd forgive him all his sins, all his wrongdoings, you'd make excuses; you'd sell your soul for this man. Once you let him into your life, you'd never be able to rid yourself of him. You'd see his face behind your eyelids, your body would long for him, would sting and burn for him… He was the kind of man who made love with his eyes open, a man who never let his control waver. For that was what attracted women to him: his ability to completely envelope you with his presence, his unyielding power over you, and his raw sexual drive.   
  
He was her type. Kotano was the type of woman who always fell for his type of man. A woman easily bored, who was usually the leader of her relationships, Kotano and others like her yearned for a man who would take control. Her type would fall quickly, deeply, in love with this type of man, and be blinded by their masculinity. They would completely devote themselves to their man, to the point of no return. For Hoshino was the type of man to take advantage.  
  
Kotano was usually the lead in her relationships; she never had respect for her beaus. Hoshino was a man who took the reins, a man who made the rules and enforced them. A man who would dominate her, who would make her feel helpless and completely at his mercy, who would thrill her with his possession. A man who was a man. A man who made her feel like a woman.  
  
Kotano saw past his flaws. This was a man who could satisfy her ever constant lust, a man who would leave her begging for more, a man who would leave her breathless. He was a man who could fulfill her greatest needs, a man who would take her and never stop, not even when she begged for mercy. His bad habits, his rages, were secondary to the feelings he awakened deep inside her body; she wanted him despite the consequences.  
  
Kotano was a woman who never learned from her mistakes.  
  
To avoid the constant threat of Hoshino, Haruka spent as little time as possible at home. She left for school at seven thirty every morning, and she returned home at past ten. Generally Haruka was able to evade seeing him, but as he was unemployed, he followed no particular schedule. It was inevitable that they would cross paths.  
  
Their feelings were mutual; neither could stand the other. Haruka thought he was an overbearing asshole, Hoshino thought she was a fucked-up brat. When by chance they did meet, harsh words were exchanged, and a heated argument often followed. Hoshino could not resist the temptation to insult her, and Haruka could not resist the temptation to retaliate. The battles intensified as time went on and resentment grew. Haruka was resentful that he had invaded into her life; Hoshino was resentful that Haruka was the barrier that protested his entry into the family. Kotano struggled for peace, but both were adamant in their hatred; neither would back down. Eventually a truce would be called, but the next time they crossed paths the battle would resume.   
  
So Haruka stayed away from home for longer and longer periods of time. She spent all of her time either at karate, at Kumada's, or just wandering restlessly around the city.   
  
As a result Haruka seldom saw her mother. Because of their lack of communication, Haruka did not notice the changes in her mother's demeanour. She did not notice her mother's steady deterioration.   
  
Haruka was on probation at school; one more violent outburst and she would be expelled. This made it impossible for her to pick fights at school, so she carried out her business elsewhere. Osaka had a population of 8 million, after all; there were bound to be other assholes out there.   
  
There was only one outlet for her frustrations, for her anger, for her fears. Where she could forget, where she could release her pain, where she could let go of all that ailed her. Here, she was safe. Here, she was untouchable. Unbreakable. Unstoppable.  
  
This space was just hers. She could forget anything, she could forget everything, she could forget herself.  
  
The sensation of becoming the wind…  
  
When life got to be too much, when the pressure to fit in, to belong, to please became overbearing and intolerable, then she would run. She'd run until her lungs ached, she'd run until her body screamed, she'd run until only the physical pain remained, and the other far greater pain was diminished to nothingness. She'd run until the wind enveloped her into its self, until she became part of the wind and left herself behind. She'd run until her body was unable to support her, until she collapsed from over exertion. And in this brief interval of blackness, beautiful nothingness, Haruka felt absolutely nothing at all.   
  
*****  
  
There was no greater torture than lunch hour. Haruka would sit under her favourite tree; eat the squalor that passed for her lunch, and watch the targets pass by.   
  
They would march past her line of vision in groups, laughing and teasing and threatening those in their way.   
  
Walking targets.  
  
Haruka would clench her fists in anger and frustration. Oh, how she wanted to clobber them! The feel of her fist breaking through their noses, the splash of blood (theirs) against her cheek, the sight of their pathetic forms flying through the air! Why, oh why did she have to be on probation? Just one punch, one little punch and she would be expelled. Sometimes it even seemed worth it, but in the end, Haruka always resisted. Sure, she hated school and all, but she could not afford to be kicked out. Not with all of the other trouble she had gotten into. Besides, she'd rather be at school than at home with that asshole Hoshino.  
  
The fact that it was forbidden fruit only served to intensify the cravings.  
  
"Just three more hours," Haruka consoled herself, "three more hours until school is over. Then it's time for karate, and there you can kick the shit out of some poor sucker. Maybe you'll meet some creep on the way, if you're lucky."  
  
The thought brought a smile to her face.  
  
The bell rang. Lunch hour was over at last. She sighed with relief; somehow she had managed to curb her aggression. It wasn't as if she liked being in class or anything, but in class it was unlikely that she'd feel the urge to kick someone. Or at least be able to do it.  
  
The remainder of the day passed by slowly and excruciatingly. After two tedious hours of Math, after an incredibly long and pointless hour of Home Ec., she was free.  
  
As soon as the bell rung Haruka was out of her seat and halfway towards the door, springing to life after three hours of confinement. She rushed past the mass obstacle of giggling students towards her locker, where she dumped her textbooks ceremoniously on the floor, grabbed her coat and headed out the door.   
  
Through the door she went, practically singing. Freedom, glorious freedom! The late winter sun warmed her face as she tilted her head skywards; the ghost of a smile appeared on her face. She took a deep breath, relishing in the fresh air, filling her lungs till they ached. Oh, how sweet was the first breath of fresh air after breathing the condensed, infiltrated air of the school!   
  
  
  
Haruka had been in a horrible mood that day, but with the wind ruffling her hair and the scent of spring in the air, her anger began to slip away. She picked up her pace, loving the way her body responded to her efforts, loving the feeling of the ground disappearing beneath her feet. The tension left her shoulders, and she felt lighter, almost weightless.   
  
The cars raced past her, but she barely heard them. So completely absorbed in her running was she that she almost missed the harsh, cruel words.  
  
"You little dyke," came the vicious voice of a man.  
  
Haruka stopped dead in her tracks, the hair on the back of her neck rising. She spun around, but saw no one behind her. Whoever had uttered those words was not directing them towards her, that much was certain.  
  
Nevertheless, Haruka felt a surge of anger. She cocked her head, straining to discern which direction the voice had come from.  
  
Laughter, deep and ominous, came from between two narrow apartment buildings; looking closely, Haruka could see the silhouettes of several people clustered in the confining alley. They were circling the small form of another, what appeared to be a young woman.  
  
"Bastards," she muttered angrily, clenching her fists. She just couldn't avoid them; they were like the plague, infiltrating every surface, every area within the city. The world was full of them; there was no avoiding them. No matter what punishments they faced, they thrived; they lingered in the shadows and attacked. No matter how society's rules had changed throughout the years, there always remained bigots, racists, and homophobes. Times were changing, but still they remained; these people would never change. Like parasites, they multiplied, passing their hatred on to their offspring, who would in turn do the same. A vicious circle; even if the original perpetrators were wiped out, their offspring would continue on the same path.   
  
However, Haruka intended on extinguishing these punks before they had a chance to reproduce.  
  
Haruka crept silently towards the group; they were too distracted to notice her advance. Within ten feet, Haruka stopped, braced herself, and prepared to attack.  
  
The lead boy advanced towards the cringing girl, a horrific grin spread across his face. He held her chin in his hand; she cringed, then with a show of bravery the girl retaliated by slapping him across the face.  
  
"Hey," he growled, touching his upper lip gingerly; a small thread of blood dripped from the wound. "You're gonna pay for that, you queer bitch,"  
  
The girl shivered, obviously afraid, but her eyes shone with anger and defiance; she would not let him break her.  
  
The boy grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her to the ground. She couldn't stand, but she turned her face towards him and did not avert her gaze. Her eyes shone with pride; she would not give in.  
  
The scene should have been pathetic, but the look in her eyes was unnerving; the boy was suddenly unsure of himself. Those eyes, that intense gaze frightened him, but he would never admit it. His buddies circled him and the girl, encouraging him, admiring him, respecting him. He could not some little queer intimidate him, no, not him! He had to defend his honour, his duty as a man! He was a man, dammit! Some pathetic little queer with scornful eyes would not beat him! He had to show her just what happened when you disobeyed the rules!   
  
(What rules?) He subconsciously asked himself, but pushed the question aside; it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was a lesbian, and lesbians had to be punished. (Why?) He didn't know, but it didn't matter. She had to pay for her sin. (What sin?) The sin of…of…no, he couldn't question himself. Not now, not when the others depended on him. No, he couldn't let this girl with burning eyes distract him from his duty as man. (What duty?) No, she had to be punished.   
  
The look in her eyes was a challenge, a dare. She dared him to hurt her; by refusing to yield to him she challenged his position. Now he had to hurt her, to show her that he was in control. She had made him question himself and his ideals, and that was unforgivable. She was in no position to pass judgement; she was in no position to affront him. The girl had to be shown just who was boss around here, just who made the rules.   
  
The boy grabbed her shoulder and swung his fist back, he prepared to strike…  
  
The girl did not turn her face, but she closed her eyes as she felt the rush of air pass by her face, she prepared herself for the inevitable…  
  
It was at this moment that a stranger's voice echoed throughout the alley.  
  
"Hold it!" the voice reverberated; the boy froze, his fist mere inches from the girls face. He spun around, lowering his arm, his face contorted with annoyance. Surprised, the girl turned her face and stared at the figure illuminated in the narrow stream of light. The crowd placed their attention on the one who dared to interrupt their ritual.  
  
The tall, slender form of a young woman stood ten feet in front of the crowd, her bangs cloaking her face in shadow. Her body was in a fighter's stance, as if she awaited a challenge.  
  
What appeared to be the group's leader stood, holding the victim in a chokehold before him. He stared at the young woman with a look of disbelief on his face. The victim stared at the young woman with big, pleading eyes, beseeching eyes…  
  
Haruka meet the eyes of the lead boy, and felt a strange sinking sensation at the pit of her stomach.  
  
"Oh shit just what the hell have I gotten myself into," she thought fleetingly as she saw the sheer size of the boy. "Oh shit he's huge…"  
  
Judging from his uniform, the boy was a high-school student, and judging from the size of him, he was probably a senior. Meaning that he was probably 17 or 18…and in the range of six feet and two hundred pounds. And shit, he was well muscled too, built like a linebacker. Shit, shit, shit!   
  
And here she stood, challenging a boy, no, nearly a man, in her school uniform and saddle shoes. A definite disadvantage.  
  
"Well, well, well, just what have we here?" the man-boy mocked, his initial annoyance changing to mirth. He took her in, his eyes quickly scanning her body, resting on her breasts, and then meeting her face. And he laughed.  
  
"Looks like some little junior high girl thinks she can play with the big boys," he smirked, and his buddies laughed along with him. "Go home, kid. This is none of your affair, sweetheart, we're just taking control of a little pest problem, here." He cocked a beefy finger at the girl he held in his arm, "Just teaching this little punk a lesson."  
  
Here was her chance, she had foolishly decided to pick a fight with this hulk of a man-boy, and now she was offered the chance to escape. But Haruka didn't budge; she was nervous and afraid, but she did not flinch. She would not flee, no, she was no coward! She met his gaze and stepped towards him, her body poised for action. The crowd distanced themselves from their leader and the one who dared challenge him.   
  
The man-boy laughed. "Hey, hey now, kid, what're you doing? You'd best back-off, before I change my mind."  
  
Haruka continued to advance towards him until they were no more than three feet apart. They were within arms reach of each other.   
  
The man-boy's humour disappeared as he saw that this chick was serious. "I'm warning you, kid, back off or I'll be forced to hurt you."  
  
"No," she replied, her voice controlled and sharp.   
  
Now the man-boy was pissed. "Look, you don't know what you're getting into. This is no helpless innocent; she's a queer. You know what a queer is, kid?"  
  
Haruka nodded. "So what if she is? That doesn't mean that you have the right to hurt her."   
  
He laughed, but without humour. "You don't think so? Do you know just what queers do?" (silence) "They're like parasites, kid, like rats. They spread their disease to others, like the plague. It's an infestation, kid; we're just the exterminators."  
  
His words were like hot tar on an open wound; they stung and burned. Ironically, he had used the same terminology that she used towards his type: racists, bigots, homophobes. But his kind were the true parasites, they spread their hatred, whereas her type (?), what did they spread? What had gays ever done to him? To anyone?   
  
"What gives you the right to play God?" she asked shakily, "What gives you the right to pass such judgements?"   
  
The man-boy faltered, at a loss. He didn't know, but she had no right to question his ideals. She was just like the little queer!  
  
"I give myself the right."  
  
Haruka scowled at his remarks, her anger replacing her reservations. Sure, this guy was big, but she was not one to renounce a challenge. There was no way that she was backing down. Not after what he had said.  
  
"Let her go," she demanded, her voice sharp and unwavering. There wasn't a trace of fear in her voice, no, only anger.   
  
The man-boy poked her in the chest; she didn't flinch. "I don't take orders from you, kid. Now, this is your last warning. Leave or prepare to bleed."  
  
Her last chance, to escape unharmed…but she wouldn't take him up on his offer. To abandon this girl, to leave her with this man-boy and his cronies, would be hypocrisy. For wasn't she just as guilty?   
  
Haruka stood firm; she accepted her fate. She had to take a stand, for the girl, for herself, for the others like her. Sure, maybe one act wouldn't make a noticeable difference, but one had to start somewhere. To run would be the same as betraying herself.   
  
She had decided; she would fight.   
  
"You're a stupid kid, you know?" said the man-boy, "Risking your ass for this here queer." He called to one of his buddies, "Watch this bitch for me, will you? I've got to take care of this little problem."  
  
"Sure thing," the buddy replied, and grabbed the girl's arm roughly. She struggled, but it was a futile effort; he held her in a stronghold. Dragging her roughly behind him, the buddy retreated back into the crowd.   
  
To defeat the man-boy, Haruka knew that she'd have to use every trick she knew. Her opponent was considerably larger and probably a great deal stronger. His size was his greatest strength…but also his greatest weakness. His size gave him power and considerable defence, but it also made him a large target.   
  
Anger burned within her, but the cold hand of caution kept Haruka from behaving rashly. In order to emerge triumphant, Haruka needed a strategy. Even if she was able to defeat the man-boy, there were still six others who would probably finish her off. She couldn't let her anger take charge. There was too much at stake.  
  
Haruka desperately tried to make eye contact with the girl. "Don't try anything," she pleaded silently, "Please, God, just don't move…"  
  
The girl seemed to understand; she returned Haruka's stare, and ceased to struggle.   
  
The man-boy smirked, "Well, I guess this is it," and aimed a punch in Haruka's direction.   
  
Except Haruka wasn't standing there anymore. With blinding speed, she dodged blow and managed to land a rapid kick at his back end simultaneously.   
  
The man-boy shook of the hit easily, but was annoyed that she had managed to avoid him. "Speedy little bitch," he thought absently, and aimed a kick at her midsection.  
  
Again she dodged expertly, jumping from his path with the skill of a gymnast. Now he was mad; he spun around and began an assault of punches on her; she managed to dodge every one and land a few hits of her own.  
  
Her punches hardly affected him, however. He was able to withstand them without difficulty, and he resumed his attack.  
  
Haruka was slowly being forced against the wall; if he cornered her, then he would undoubtedly land a hit. And if he landed a hit…then she would be at a serious disadvantage; the force of his blows was considerable. One hit would probably impair her.  
  
Haruka struggled to simultaneously dodge, strike and block at the same time, but despite her efforts he pushed her closer and closer to the wall. Closer and closer to defeat. In desperation, Haruka tried to move towards the right, but the man-boy anticipated her move and aimed his kick rightwards; Haruka just managed to dodge as his foot flew by her arm.  
  
"Oh shit," she thought as the wall grew ever closer.   
  
As the man-boy continued to advance, fists swinging, her back brushed the wall, and she was trapped. The man-boy raised his balled fist; it came towards her with the force of a sledgehammer…   
  
Without hesitation, Haruka ducked just prior to his fist connecting; he missed her head by mere inches and struck the brick wall instead. There was a loud crunch, followed by a shriek of pain. As he was preoccupied with his injured fist, Haruka took her chance and rolled between his legs. Emerging behind him, she sprung to her feet immediately.   
  
"Oh shit my hand my hand you fucking bitch!" he shook his bleeding, swollen hand before his face, cursing and threatening obscenely. His face a mask of rage, he blindly charged at Haruka.  
  
She jumped back, and would have avoided him had he not grabbed a hold of her long ponytail.   
  
"Aaah," she gasped as he yanked her ponytail, hard, the pain searing her skull. She mentally cursed her mother for not letting her cut it.   
  
"How'd you like that?" he grunted, giving her hair another yank. He then swung a fierce kick at her midsection; Haruka tried to dodge, but as he had her by the hair, she was unable to move far enough away. Luckily, his foot just grazed her abdomen but it stung nevertheless. She forced herself to stay focused; this pain was nothing compared to what he was capable of.   
  
  
  
With a grunt she jump kicked the hand that held her hair; he shrieked as it was also the hand that he had injured earlier. Any doubt that it was broken disappeared with that snap. He released his hold on her hair, and Haruka was free.   
  
The man-boy was breathing heavily, his hand was broken but he was still a long ways off from being defeated. His body was able to withstand her attacks; it would take hundreds to take him down. And Haruka was injured; her stomach protested every move she made. She didn't have the luxury of time, no; if she were going to win she'd need to finish this fight as soon as possible.   
  
In order to defeat him, Haruka would have to play dirty. This man-boy had already proved himself to be a dirty fighter, so she felt that it was justifiable to sink to his level. If he wanted a dirty fight, then she'd give him a dirty fight.   
  
They circled each other warily, both sizing up their opponent. The onlookers were awestruck; they hadn't expected the skinny chick to be a match for their leader. They silently watched the fight progress, their eyes never leaving the two adversaries.   
  
The girl's eyes shone with fear, not for herself but for the one who fought for her. "Please be alright," she prayed, "Please,"  
  
Haruka racked her brain, trying to strategise how to defeat the man-boy. In order to defeat him, she had to focus her attack on one part of his body. Then he would be impaired, and she could finish him off without worry of his retaliation.   
  
But where to strike? His testicles were the obvious thought, but Haruka was wary of this; he was sure to anticipate her attacking him there. Besides, while kicking him in the balls would slow him down, it wouldn't leave him helpless. No, it would surely only increase his anger.   
  
So where else? What were his weak points? His neck? No, too small of a target. His sternum? No, again too difficult. His kidneys? No, Haruka couldn't pinpoint just where they were located. His elbow? No, it wouldn't cripple him. Not his elbow, but another joint similar to it; if she were to damage this joint, then he would be unable to stand, and therefore unable to fight. Now, how to go about her assault?  
  
Without warning he attacked, and Haruka was just able to avoid being struck in the face by his boot-clad foot.   
  
"Watch it, Tenou," she muttered, "You have to stay focused; one wrong move and you're finished."  
  
They faced each other, both unsure as how to proceed. Haruka knew where she had to hit him, but she knew that she did not have the strength to break the bone on her own; she needed his help.  
  
A kick's power to maim was based on the strength of the attacker, the angle the kick is directed in and the position of the target. Haruka calculated just how much pressure was needed to break a bone. The conclusion: if she were able to use the man-boy's own strength against him then the bone would break. The attack was risky, but necessary. There was no other way to stop the man-boy short of shooting him in the head. Now all she needed to do was provoke him to lunge at her.   
  
Luckily Haruka was an expert on infuriating people.  
  
It was her experience that an opponent always reacted the strongest towards defending his secret shames: a coward his courage, a liar his honesty…and an insecure boy…his masculinity.   
  
With a deep breath, Haruka braced herself. Everything was riding on this attack: if her calculations were correct, then this would cripple the man-boy and render her the victor. However, if the attack failed…  
  
May God have mercy on her soul.  
  
Haruka positioned herself as far from the man-boy as possible and tensed her body into a fighter's stance. They stood directly across from each other…in the prefect position. Now was the time.  
  
"Some man you are," she taunted, her tone light but her eyes never losing their intensity, "Picking on a helpless girl,"  
  
He flinched, then narrowed his brows, "You'd better watch your mouth, bitch,"  
  
"Some man. Needs six buddies to take on an innocent girl…"   
  
His face grew red; she had hit a nerve.  
  
"Shut up," he threatened, his anger increasing.  
  
Perfect: the man-boy was losing control over himself; he was letting his emotions overcome his good sense. Visible on his face was the struggle to keep his anger in check- a lost cause, from the looks of it.  
  
Now, to drop the bomb:  
  
"Any man that picks on girls to feel big is no man at all!"  
  
With a cry of fury, the man-boy lunged at Haruka, his good fist aimed right for her face, his eyes flashing with rage…  
  
Haruka waited until he was less than a foot away from her, then hurled every ounce of power into his right kneecap. The force of the kick combined with the momentum of his charge was enough power to dislodge the kneecap; it broke with a sickening crack.   
  
He screamed an inhuman scream; it echoed throughout the alley. Staggering backwards, clasping his knee, his face was twisted in agony. Haruka promptly rose to her feet and faked a punch towards his face; predictably he removed his hands to block. Leaving his poor broken knee unprotected; she seized the opportunity and struck it with a lightning fast kick.  
  
The sound of the knee exploding combined with his inhuman shriek paralysed the crowd; they were incapable of motion. Their eyes remained fixated on the scene before them.  
  
"You…you…" the man-boy stammered, pain heavy in his voice. Leaning heavily on his left leg, he was still able to stand.   
  
Advancing towards him, Haruka stopped approximately two feet from him. Leaving just enough distance between them so that he was unable to strike her.   
  
"Tell them to let her go," she demanded.  
  
"Never! You'll pay for this!" He shouted at her, then turned to his cronies, "Guys, help me…"  
  
Several members of the crowd advanced towards them; Haruka had anticipated their movement and was prepared.  
  
"Back off!" she threatened, facing the crowd, "Don't come any closer, or God help me I'll kill him!"  
  
The crowd faltered; they were unsure on how to proceed. They turned their eyes towards their leader, looking for guidance. The girl watched with awe as her saviour held her ground.  
  
"She's so brave," she thought, "Facing them all on her own. But bravery won't keep her from being killed…"  
  
"What are you waiting for?" screamed the man-boy, "Get her!"   
  
But before the crowd had the chance, Haruka made good on her threat. Swiftly she kicked the man-boy's left knee, the knee that supported him…  
  
Although the kick was not strong enough to break his left kneecap, it caused the man-boy to lose his balance and fall. Directly on his left knee. It exploded as it struck the ground, weighed down by his 200-pound frame.   
  
The sounds that escaped his lips were illegible, a mixture of curses and wails. Tears of pain fell from his eyes, running down his cheeks. He was curled in a ball on the asphalt, his arms wrapped around both broken knees. Haruka stood over him, prepared to finish him off if the crowd dared to approach her. A pathetic scene indeed.  
  
The crowd hesitated; the girl prayed; the man-boy screamed: "Get her get her GET HER!"  
  
"Don't come any closer!" Haruka yelled, turning towards the advancing crowd. "I'll really kill him!" She sounded as if she meant it, too.  
  
But the man-boy paid her warning no heed. He continued to call for his friends; they hesitantly approached her.  
  
Haruka responded accordingly. She stood beside the man-boy, just beyond his reach…and stepped on his right knee. Hard.  
  
His scream was a shriek; his friends winced as the inhuman cries reached their eyes. However, they didn't retreat.   
  
Haruka increased the pressure on the man-boy's broken knee, grinding her foot mercilessly and slowly. He tried to reach for her with his good hand; she kicked it away and stomped on his knee.  
  
Now he was whimpering like a beaten dog, wailing as she ground her heel on the broken bone. All pride lost the man-boy finally gave in. A pathetic end for a pathetic man.   
  
"What do you say?" asked Haruka, her tone vicious.  
  
"B-b-back off, guys," he sobbed, "L-l-let the girl go."  
  
Slowly the crowd backed away; the boy holding the girl released his hold and she fell to the ground.  
  
A triumphant smile appeared on Haruka's face, but her eyes still burned with anger. She wouldn't be satisfied until all the boys had left.  
  
"Very good." She said, and then directed her attention to the crowd, "Now take your friend and get the hell out of here. And if any of you try anything…" she cracked her knuckles threateningly.   
  
They got the message; the group of boys lifted their pathetic leader onto their shoulders and retreated the alley like a pack of wounded dogs. Haruka's eyes never left their departing forms; her body remained tensed and prepared for action. She wasn't taking any chances.   
  
However, a light pressure on her arm interrupted her concentration; she spun around and looked into the face of the girl.   
  
The girl smiled a beautiful smile, her hand on Haruka's shoulder. "You're amazing," she breathed, her eyes never leaving Haruka's face.   
  
Haruka was surprised; her concentration on the fight had been so great that she had almost forgotten about the girl.   
  
"Thank-you. Thank-you for saving my life," she said. "I've never seen anyone as great, as magnificent…" and she blushed. "You're my 'Eiyuu'.  
  
Haruka was speechless; this girl…  
  
The girl smiled, and Haruka was struck by her appearance. Shoulder length black hair with crimson highlights, slightly wild and wind-blown. Her eyes, luminous and jade green…striking in their intensity. Creamy pale skin seemingly lit from within. "She seems illuminated by light," she thought, and a faint blush reddened her cheeks.  
  
"Did he hurt you?" asked Haruka anxiously, "Did he…"  
  
She shook her head. "No, I'm fine, he didn't hurt anything but my pride."  
  
"Thank God," said Haruka, then mentally kicked herself. How could she have said something so stupid?  
  
But the girl only laughed. She tossed her head back, and her long silver earrings sparkled and shook with her hair. Haruka found herself unable to look away.  
  
"Sorry…" she stammered, embarrassed beyond belief, but the girl only grinned.  
  
"No offence taken." Then she looked thoughtful. "He hurt you, though, didn't he?"  
  
Haruka started to shake her head, but the girl only sighed.   
  
"I saw him, no need to be modest. First he pulled your hair, and then he kicked you in the stomach."   
  
"He only just grazed me," she protested, but the girl only shook her head disapprovingly.  
  
She placed her hand on Haruka's hip; Haruka involuntarily shivered at her touch.  
  
"It's all right, really, I'm fine…" Haruka insisted, but the girl ignored her protests.   
  
She unzipped Haruka's light jacket and lifted her blouse, exposing her midriff. The girl placed her hand on Haruka's stomach, gently stroking the deep bruise that had been left by the man-boy's kick. Her touch was electrifying; Haruka felt almost light headed as a warm, intense feeling grew within her.  
  
This feeling, what was it? How could such a simple gesture ignite such a strong reaction? Her body felt warm, light…the girl's fingers gentle, caressing, loving…what was this feeling?   
  
"That bastard," the girl muttered angrily, "He really hurt you, didn't he?"  
  
How odd that the girl was the one who offered condolence, thought Haruka absently. The girl was the one who had been hurt…  
  
"It's OK," said Haruka shakily, the girl's caresses leaving her light-headed. "Really, nothing to worry about…"  
  
With a doubtful look, the girl took her hands from Haruka's stomach. The memory from her touch remained, however; Haruka suddenly wanted to feel the girl's hands on her hips, on her breasts.  
  
Their eyes met; neither could look away. What was that feeling, born deep within her? Haruka wanted to run, she wanted to feel the girl's hands, she wanted to take the girl into her arms and never let go…  
  
The spell was broken by the sound of a car's horn; Haruka spun her head in the direction the noise had come from.   
  
"We should get out of here," she said, "those guys could come back. It's not safe."  
  
The girl nodded. She took Haruka's hand in hers, and they both left the alley.  
  
Her touch warmed Haruka's hand.   
  
They both blinked as the bright sunlight hit their eyes, unaccustomed to the brilliance of the late winter day.  
  
"I want to ask you something," the girl said, "but not here. Will you come with me?"  
  
Like she had to ask. "Of course," Haruka replied, "but I have karate in an hour…"  
  
The girl laughed, shaking her head. "So that explains it. Where's your class?"  
  
Haruka told her.  
  
"Perfect, it's only ten minutes from here. Tell you what, I know a café on the same street, I'll treat you to a soda or something. That OK?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
The girl smiled, and again Haruka felt that peculiar feeling well up inside of her. The girl took Haruka's hands in her own and squeezed them gently.   
  
"My Eiyuu," she whispered, and this time they both blushed, "I want to know the name of the woman who saved my life."  
  
"Its Haruka, Tenou Haruka…"  
  
She grinned. "A beautiful name. Suits you, too." She pulled a strand of her hair from her face and twirled it around her finger.   
  
"And who…" Haruka began, but trailed off as the girl smiled brilliantly. This girl left her speechless…  
  
"It's Mitsuko, Sora Mitsuko."  
  
Mitsuko, 'child of light'…   
  
"Mitsuko," Haruka repeated softly, then again, "Mitsuko…  
  
*****  
  
{Did I surprise you guys? Did you think the girl was Michiru? (Evil grin)  
  
OK, before you start sending me death threats, just hear me out. H&M are perfect together, but I wanted to write something different. Remember, Haruka didn't meet Michiru until she was older, and we are all familiar with the scene. This story takes place before Haruka met Michiru.   
  
So how did you like this chapter? Please R&R, as I like to know what people think of what I'm writing. Thanks to everyone who've stuck with "Rising Winds" for so long, and especially to those who have written their opinions (positive and negative). See you next chapter! (I hope!)   
  
P.S. 'Eiyuu' means hero. }  
  
-Brandt 


	11. My Eiyuu 1

Sora Mitsuko. What was it about this girl that sent Haruka's heart racing? How was it that a simple touch on the hand could summon such strong feelings? The light catching her hair in the sun, the fullness of her lips, the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled…   
  
She couldn't keep her eyes off of her.   
  
Walking beside her, Haruka couldn't help but steal glances at her. The things she immediately noticed: Mitsuko was tall, but not as tall as herself. Her hair was black and streaked with chunky red highlights. A cascade of silver hoop earrings dangled from her earlobes; in the sunlight they shone. Her eyes were a pale green; lined with charcoal eyeliner…and they met her gaze.  
  
  
  
"Shit," Haruka moaned inwardly; how embarrassing, to be caught staring…  
  
Mitsuko, however, didn't seem to mind; she just squeezed her hand softly. And smiled.  
  
"She's holding my hand," thought Haruka, "she's smiling at me…"  
  
And indeed she was; Mitsuko seemed as enamoured with Haruka as Haruka was with her.   
  
"My Eiyuu," Mitsuko had said…my hero. Her voice had been breathy, sensual, intoxicating. Why was it that her words echoed through Haruka's mind, through her heart? Why was it that Haruka felt as if she needed to prove herself true to Mitsuko's words?  
  
How was it that everything could change in a blink of an eye?   
  
Too soon the walk ended, and they stood in front of a rather dingy café. Haruka looked inside the seemingly deserted restaurant sceptically. Mitsuko caught her look; Haruka cursed her transparency.  
  
"I know it doesn't look like much," Mitsuko explained, "but it's private. Plus they serve the best milkshakes."  
  
Haruka grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, sorry…didn't know you could read minds,"  
  
Mitsuko lowered her eyelids seductively, then whispered in Haruka's ear, "I'm a sorceress of many talents, Tenou-san,"  
  
"That so?" she replied unsteadily, caught off guard by Mitsuko's forward conduct.  
  
"Oh, yes," she said, then lowered her eyes mysteriously, "I'm rather affluent in the ways of luring angry young men into dark alleys,"  
  
Haruka lifted her eyebrow ever so slightly; Mitsuko burst out laughing.  
  
"Tenou-san, you're really something! You didn't think I was serious, did you?"  
  
"No, of course not…" but her expression betrayed her; Mitsuko continued to laugh until Haruka was forced to joined her.  
  
Mitsuko wiped tears from her eyes. "You're just too much, you know?" she said, grinning. She grabbed Haruka by the arm and led her inside the restaurant.  
  
A waitress in a nylon blouse chewing on an enormous wad of gum greeted them with a grunt; how she was able to speak at all was astonishing.  
  
"Table for two, please," Mitsuko said politely; as soon as the waitress turned her back Mitsuko crossed her eyes and Haruka couldn't help but grin.   
  
The waitress led them to a corner table in the back of the restaurant reluctantly, as if the thought of dealing with two teenagers was just too much for her to deal with. They were seated across from each other; the waitress dropped two tattered menus on the table and with another inaudible grunt, was gone.  
  
"Talk about service with a smile," Haruka muttered, removing her jacket and draping it over the chair.   
  
"More like 'service with a smirk'," replied Mitsuko, removing her jacket as well. Underneath her navy blue blazer she wore a loose white blouse; a silver chain dipped between her breasts. Haruka caught herself staring again, and quickly lowered her gaze lest Mitsuko catch her.  
  
"The chocolate milkshakes are to die for," she said, handing Haruka one of the menus. Their hands touched briefly; a pleasant sensation travelled through Haruka's fingertips. Her hand…Mitsuko's fingers were warm and her nails were painted with chipped maroon polish. Something about her fingernails sent shivers down her spine.  
  
"Oh?" replied Haruka, reluctantly taking the menu and losing contact with her fingers. She scanned the menu critically, but did not read a word. How could she concentrate on food when Mitsuko sat across from her?  
  
"Strawberry's good, too," she said.  
  
"Oh," Haruka replied, her thoughts a million miles away. Remembering the feel of those hands undoing her blouse, on her bare skin, stroking, caressing…  
  
"You're pretty cute, you know?"   
  
"Oh," Haruka replied again, not hearing; she lifted her eyes and was surprised to see Mitsuko grinning mischievously. "What?" she asked, confused as to why the girl was snickering.   
  
"You weren't listening to me, Tenou-san," she teased, wagging her finger disapprovingly. "Is the menu so fascinating?"   
  
"Uh," Haruka trailed off, at a loss. Shit. She was caught.  
  
However, Mitsuko was not angry. In fact, she seemed rather amused with how flustered Haruka was growing.   
  
"I…what did you say?" she asked sheepishly.  
  
Mitsuko crossed her arms across her breasts in mock upset, however the corners of her mouth were turned up as if hiding a smile. "You know, Tenou-san, it isn't polite to ignore people,"  
  
Haruka grinned, "Well, who ever said I was polite?"  
  
They laughed; the situation was so strange, to both of them. This was the first time that Haruka felt so carefree with another person, the first time she was able to just kid around, flirt, be herself.   
  
It was incredible how quickly they warmed to each other. Haruka's usual standoffish demeanour disappeared; she didn't need to be on her guard around this girl.   
  
However, Haruka still remained cautious. There were things about her that she felt too personal to reveal. Perhaps with time…  
  
Their laughter dissolved as the true reason for their meeting dawned on them; suddenly the carefree atmosphere was replaced as the seriousness of the situation became apparent. Both were apprehensive: Haruka on what Mitsuko was going to ask her, Mitsuko on how Haruka would react. However much they liked each other certain matters needed to be brought to the surface and resolved before a friendship could develop.   
  
Haruka was the first to break the silence. "Just what was it that you wanted to ask me?"  
  
Looking down at her hands, then at Haruka. An unreadable expression on her face, was it fear, apprehension, regret, resignation, or despondence? Perhaps none of the above, perhaps all?  
  
"I want to know you," she began, "I have to admit that you intrigue me, that there's just something about you that draws me in. But before I can, I have to know something. I have to bring something out in the open before I can let you into my life."  
  
The tone of her voice, the seriousness of her words, the intensity of her eyes all conveyed her hesitation, her reluctance to speak. Yet Mitsuko knew that she needed to lay her cards on the table, that she needed to reveal everything before she proceeded in befriending the girl across from her. It needed to be said, it needed to be brought out into the open lest the girl find out later and hate her because of it. Easier to break the bond now then later. Mitsuko knew all too well the pain of losing someone she cared for because that person could not handle who she was. What she was…  
  
  
  
Haruka was surprised at Mitsuko's initial reservations. What could it be that Mitsuko wanted to ask her? At first, Haruka thought that her question would be along the lines of 'how'd you learn to fight like that' or 'why did you save me', but from the tone of Mitsuko's voice, Haruka believed the question to be more serious. A question so serious that the answer could either make or break a friendship…  
  
Mitsuko had said that she wanted to know her…  
  
Wanted to know her…someone wanted to get to know her. Someone saw past her barrier, her wall, her defences, someone was interested in pursuing a friendship. A friend, Haruka could be someone's friend. What a concept; Haruka thought herself beyond friends, beyond being able to make a connection with another. To date, the only person that could even classify as a friend was Kumada, but he was more of an older brother, a role model. This was the first time a person near her own age had made the effort to approach her, to befriend her. Friendship: what a revolutionary concept.  
  
Of course, all this depended on her reaction to Mitsuko's question. Whatever that was.   
  
Haruka focused all of her attention on Mitsuko; she leaned her body as close to her as possible and smiled encouragly. "You can trust me," her eyes said.   
  
  
  
Mitsuko continued, "Tenou-san, I must know if you were bothered by what those boys...thought about me."  
  
What a question! "Of course I was bothered!" she exclaimed, "They ganged up on you and tried to hurt you just because they thought you were…" she hesitated, "Just because of some stupid beliefs…how could you possibly think I wouldn't be bothered by something like that?"  
  
Mitsuko shook her head, "That's not what I meant. Were you bothered by what those boys said? About me?"  
  
Confused, Haruka was unsure on how to respond. What exactly did she mean?  
  
"Did it bother you that they called me…" she trailed off, then spat out the words as if sour, "a queer? Does it bother you?"  
  
"That they called you a queer? Those boys are just idiots, Sora-san, just a bunch of stupid fucks. Sure, I'm bothered that they insulted you; I wanted to kill that bastard and his stupid friends!"  
  
"But were you bothered that he called me a queer? Because I…I won't deny it. I am…and I'm not going to hide it." She said this with conviction, but still the fear remained in her eyes. "Are you bothered that I'm gay?"  
  
Haruka was momentarily stunned. Bothered that she was gay? Why would she think such a thing…and then Haruka read between the lines. It had probably happened before. Others had probably been bothered once they learned the truth about her. Others had turned against her. So Mitsuko didn't want to risk being hurt again. She didn't want to start a friendship, only to have it unravel once her friend learned the truth. That was why Mitsuko asked her point-blank. It had happened before, and Mitsuko did not want to be hurt again.  
  
Carefully Haruka considered her words. "It doesn't bother me, Sora-san. I'm not like those boys; I'm not so shallow. I would never judge you based on something like that."  
  
"Really?" she asked, as if in disbelief. As if she couldn't believe that there was someone out there that accepted her as she was.  
  
"Really," Haruka reassured.   
  
She sighed in relief, and a smile lit up her face. "I was so worried, so worried that you'd judge me, just like everyone else…I was so worried that you'd leave." And she laughed shakily, a release of tension perhaps, of relief.  
  
Haruka scowled. "I would never judge someone based on something like that. How could you ever think that I'm like those boys, Sora-san?"  
  
She shook her head, "I never for a minute thought that you were like those boys, Tenou-san. I just thought that maybe…maybe you wouldn't want to hang around someone who's gay. So many people pretend that it doesn't bother them, when in reality…" And here she stopped, a sudden sigh escaping.  
  
"She looks so sad," thought Haruka, "As if she's going to cry."   
  
Indeed she did. Large tears shone in her eyes and ran down her cheeks, smudging her eye make-up, but she didn't lower her head. She wasn't ashamed.  
  
So fragile, yet so strong. To stand up for herself against those boys, to refuse to renounce herself, to refuse to deny her sexuality…that took courage. So brave, to stand up for herself and others like her. Haruka felt admiration for this girl, this Mitsuko, this lone warrior against the world…   
  
"Hey, hey," Haruka mumbled, embarrassed. "It's OK, Sora-san, please…"  
  
Rubbing her eyes with her napkin, Mitsuko smiled through her tears. "After a while, you give up hope. I've tried so many times to approach others, but have always been met by opposition. Ever since I came out…I've lost everyone."  
  
"You've been hurt before," a statement, not a question.  
  
"Once others find out the truth, they leave me. Or pursue me…but in a different way."  
  
"Like those boys…"said Haruka, feeling sick. She had a suspicion that this was not the first time that Mitsuko had been harassed, and she had a feeling that it would not be the last.  
  
"Like those boys," she agreed. "I hardly even know them, yet they found it their business to 'educate me'. Their words, not mine."  
  
Haruka leaned her elbows on the counter and took Mitsuko's hand in hers. It was warm, soft…and so small. She traced her fingertips down Mitsuko's palm, and turned her hand over. She looked so sad…Haruka only wanted to comfort her. Her hand was so small; she was so frail…how could she possibly stand up against those boys? How did she find the courage to stand up for who she was, to withstand their insults and refuse to renounce her identity? How could she find the courage to declare what she was…when Haruka was unable to even admit it to herself?   
  
"I want to protect her," she thought as her hand grasped Mitsuko's, "I want to comfort her…"  
  
Mitsuko couldn't breathe; she closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of Haruka's fingers. They glided over her palm and then stroked the back of her hand. The motions were slow, very slow, and soothing. The feel of her fingers…how could such a soft touch ignite such deep feelings? How could the feel of slender fingers on her palm cause her breasts to ache, her heartbeat to quicken? How was it that the smallest touch could create the largest sensations?  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered, "Dragging you here to hear about my problems. I didn't mean to cry, it's just…"  
  
Haruka squeezed her hand. "Don't be."   
  
Mitsuko leaned over and brushed a strand of Haruka's hair behind her ear. Her fingers just grazed her cheek, accidentally, but what she did next was not unintentional. She cupped Haruka's face in her hands, and stared deep into her eyes. They leaned their foreheads together, their lips inches apart…  
  
The sweet smell of her perfume, lily of the valley…Haruka inhaled her scent and sighed softly. The curve of her neck, the slant of her brows, the softness of her cheek…  
  
This close to Haruka, Mitsuko could see the prominent, high cheekbones usually hidden by her hair. She felt the strong line of Haruka's jaw with her fingers; she stroked her cheek and moved her fingers down towards…  
  
Her lips, so red…what would it feel like to press her own lips against hers? To feel those lips part, to taste her sweet breath, to explore the inside of her mouth with her own? Only inches apart, did she dare?  
  
Suddenly the heavy footsteps of the waitress approached them. The moment was broken. Haruka quickly reclined back into her chair and hid her face behind the menu. Mitsuko looked down sadly and folded her hands in her lap.  
  
"Watch it, Tenou," she warned herself, "Don't get too involved, only bad things could happen."  
  
"So close," thought Mitsuko, "But I can't get carried away, she's only in junior high, after all. Don't ruin your chance for friendship by giving into your desires."   
  
However relieved they both were, they were also disappointed. Both wanted to touch…but doing so was dangerous for them both. One mustn't act too hastily in a situation as serious as this.   
  
The nylon-clad waitress stopped in front of their table with a sigh; she cracked her gum, pulled out a notepad and asked them what they wanted.  
  
They both answered without a glance at the waitress; Haruka hid her red face behind the menu, while Mitsuko gazed wistfully at Haruka. She took in her sloppy blouse with the crooked red bow, wrinkled and faded from being washed too many times, the way her long hair spilled from its ponytail, the way she hid her face behind the menu. She was tempted to brush the unruly strands from her face, but didn't dare. It had been too fast, too soon to touch the girl that way, but her hands…they couldn't resist. That girl across from her, that tall blond with the stormy eyes and the mass of wild hair, she was someone special. Her body was so long and lean, so slender but strong at the same time. The soft swell of her breasts from beneath her blouse, the gentle curve of her hips…she wanted this girl to hold her, to press that strong body against hers.   
  
Her voice was strong, standoffish…but intoxicating none the less. The deep tone of her voice sent a thrill down her body, warming her from head to toes. Recalling her reassuring words, the way her voice had lowered, the way her mouth curved slightly at the corners, the smoothness of that voice, it made her melt.  
  
The waitress was still talking; Mitsuko scowled as she broke her concentration. Who cared if they were out of chocolate? Who cared, when across from her was a young woman who was more appealing than any chocolate could be? Who stimulated her senses beyond the power of chocolate? She probably tasted better, too…  
  
"Don't even think about it," she chastised herself, "Don't you even dare or you'll lose her…"  
  
The prospect of losing her…why was it that the mere thought depressed her? She had known Haruka for approximately half an hour, so why was it that she felt that she'd be unable to live without her? Just who was this young woman across from her?  
  
Haruka scowled at the menu, wondering why the basic katakana was illegible to her.   
  
"How is it that I can't concentrate on this damned menu?" she cursed inwardly, "Why is it that I can't stop thinking of her…"  
  
The waitress cracked her gum; Haruka finally just asked for a tea as she figured that every restaurant probably sold it. It seemed that she was right as the waitress jotted her order down and mercifully left.  
  
Both were unable to speak for several minutes, still recovering from the earlier scene. Haruka couldn't look at Mitsuko as she feared that her thoughts would be written across her face, Mitsuko feared that Haruka would flee if she saw the longing in her eyes.  
  
Both internally decided that it was best to keep their feelings to themselves, at least for the time being. Neither was aware on how the other felt. Besides, neither felt that pursuing their feelings was worth losing their newfound friendship. Although they had known each other for less than an hour, both highly valued their friendship. Neither had ever connected on such a deep level with another, neither had ever had a true friend. No, it was best for them to keep their feelings hidden as the price of speaking out was simply too high.   
  
And Haruka simply wasn't ready to admit to herself that she felt this way towards another girl. She had enough adversaries as it was. Revealing to the world this past of her would only complicate matters, it would only result in hurting both herself and her mother.   
  
Her mother. How Kotano would react…she would turn her ice blue eyes on her daughter, eyes filled with disgust and contempt, and renounce her. Her mother, her beautiful, aloof mother, so vain, so stereotypical, so critical, so unyielding…so set in her ways. If she came out, then her mother would hate her. She would lose her mother.   
  
No, Haruka vowed to never let her secret out, she would guard it from her mother, from the world…and from Mitsuko.   
  
They exchanged nervous glances, both feeling somewhat unsure of themselves. Haruka felt the urge to bolt, to leave this room and her feelings as well…but she sustained the impulse. She couldn't keep running away, damnit!   
  
She couldn't keep running…but deep inside Haruka knew that she was still running. Even if she didn't move from her seat, she was still running from the truth. Still trying to escape these feelings, these desires, she hid them deep inside herself and avoided thinking of. These feelings, a part of her for so long. Kept secret lest the world find out and condemn her for them. Persecute her.  
  
Just like they did to Mitsuko…  
  
"…ou-san? Tenou-san?"  
  
Haruka opened her eyes and laughed shakily. "Don't know what's wrong with me today, that bastard must have hit me harder than I thought…"  
  
"Are you sure he didn't hit your head?" she asked.  
  
"Hey!" Haruka exclaimed, but laughing afterwards. "That was pretty sly, Sora-san…" Suddenly she stopped laughing as she realised that Mitsuko wasn't joining in.  
  
Haruka started to apologise, but Mitsuko dismissed it with a wave of her hand.   
  
"You saved my life," she said.  
  
"Hey, hey," protested Haruka, "I wouldn't go that far…"  
  
But Mitsuko was serious. "Those type of boys, they never know when to quit. Once they get carried away…anything could happen. They were angry, Tenou-san, really angry…judging from the look in his eyes, I honestly think that he would have killed me if you hadn't interfered."  
  
"Just what happened today, Sora-san?" she asked gently. "Just why were those boys after you?"  
  
She shrugged her shoulders, "It's hard to say exactly what happened. I was walking home from school when two boys grabbed me and dragged me into the alley. Hitotsugi was waiting for me there."  
  
"Is Hitotsugi the man-boy, I mean, the one I fought?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes, that was him. I don't know him well, but he has a rather large reputation at my school. He's the type of person that is best avoided, especially by people like me. I'm sure you're familiar with his type, Tenou-san."  
  
"You could say that," she replied. The mental picture of Saeki pushing the poor retarded boy in the mud was one of many examples of her encounters with Hitotsugi's type.  
  
"He's a senior, so we've never even exchanged words. I'm sure that he didn't even know that I existed until he found out I was gay. As I've told you, I don't deny being gay, but I don't exactly draw attention to it. However, there were several people that knew, and somehow or other the word got out. Unfortunately, it ultimately reached Hitotsugi."  
  
Their eyes met; Haruka felt the overwhelming urge to grasp her hand, but restrained herself.  
  
"Easy, Tenou," she told herself, "Don't get too close…"  
  
"When Hitotsugi learned that I was gay…he sought me out. Came right up to me, on school property, and threatened me. Insulted me. Demanded the truth, as if he had the right…"Her voice shook with sudden anger, her eyes flashed, "As if he had the right to know such personal things about me! As if he had the right to condemn me! He dared to insult me, Tenou-san, he called me, he called me…"  
  
Haruka knew what he had called her. That horrible word, that disgusting, derogatory, humiliating word…that word that stung like no other…he had dared…  
  
"He forced me to tell him…so I did. I didn't deny it, Tenou-san, I wouldn't deny it! He couldn't make me!" she struck her fist against the table; the thump startled them both. "I think that's what angered him the most, that I wouldn't deny it. He threatened me…but I was able to escape. That time."   
  
"Then this has been ongoing,"   
  
"Yes. Since we're in different grades it has been possible for me to avoid him, and if I stayed in sight of a teacher, he couldn't do anything. But he's been following me, Tenou-san, he's been following me home, him and his asshole friends…they've been threatening me. Several times they've chased me, and up until today I was able to escape. Today they jumped me; I didn't see it coming."  
  
Didn't see it coming…  
  
"Hitotsugi was waiting there, he must have skipped school today to be able to wait for me. His face…in the shadows he looked sinister, he looked crazy! He gave me an ultimatum: either I deny the fact that I'm gay…or he'd be forced to 'educate me'. I couldn't deny it, Tenou-san, I just couldn't! I know that it was foolish, but I can't keep hiding, I can't keep running!"  
  
"I can't keep running…" Haruka echoed. Can't keep running…  
  
"I think that's what sent him over the edge, the fact that I wouldn't back down. The fact that I wouldn't deny my sexuality to save my life. When I saw the look in his eyes…I was certain that he was going to kill me. Yet I just couldn't recant what I had said, I just couldn't! I knew what was at stake but I was unable to say a word!"   
  
  
  
She wouldn't deny it to save her life…  
  
"And then you came," she whispered, "And you saved my life. My Eiyuu."  
  
My Eiyuu…  
  
The waitress came and dumped their drinks on the table without a word and left promptly. Neither Haruka nor Mitsuko took any notice, however.   
  
Haruka was amazed at both her bravery and her stupidity. To risk her life for such a thing, it was beyond her comprehension. Who cared what some stupid asshole thought of her? Who cared if she lied about her sexuality if it would save her life? What difference could it possibly make?  
  
Of course, Mitsuko saw things differently. She had struggled with her sexuality for years until she had finally had enough. Why should she have to hide her true self from others? What gave them the right to condemn her? What gave them the power to make her feel dirty, ashamed, embarrassed about that part of herself? Nothing would persuade her to deny that part of herself, not Hitotsugi, not society, not the world. She was who she was and nothing could change that fact. If others couldn't accept this, then that was their problem. Mitsuko was wise beyond her years, but ultimately would suffer because of it.  
  
"I may have stopped him this time," Haruka muttered, "but what happens when you see him again? He's bound to be mad, bound to be livid…what happens when you cross paths again?"  
  
Mitsuko sighed, "I don't know. I'm sure that he'll be out for quite a while, thanks to you."  
  
"But he'll be back, eventually he'll be back. The question is, will he be too scared to approach you, or will he be so angry that he'll want revenge?"  
  
"I honestly don't know," she replied, "But either way, what can be done about it?"  
  
"I'll be there for you," Haruka declared, "He can't try anything on school property, but after school, I'll be there. I'll kill him if he tries anything, Sora-san, I seriously will. I'll protect you."  
  
{I'll be there for you}  
  
Such a strong statement, such a big promise, but Haruka intended on keeping her word. She'd stay by Mitsuko; she'd fight any asshole that threatened her.   
  
"She'll be there for me," Mitsuko smiled at the thought. "She'll protect me…" such selfless words.  
  
  
  
"I couldn't ask you to do that, Tenou-san. I couldn't ask you to risk your life…"  
  
"But you didn't ask," Haruka replied and winked, "I'm the one who suggested it. So I guess its OK, right?"  
  
She couldn't help but laugh, "I couldn't stop you if I tried, could I?"  
  
"Nothing stops me once I've set my mind on something," declared Haruka, "So I guess you're stuck with me."  
  
It was at this precise moment that both knew there was no going back; they were in this together.  
  
"We're connected for life, Tenou-san. By saving my life you have established an unbreakable bond between us."  
  
How could you respond to a statement like that?   
  
The tea was cold and incredibly strong; Haruka had failed to remove the teabag. However, this hardly mattered, as she was unable to taste it anyways.   
  
Mitsuko unwrapped the straw and dropped it into her strawberry milkshake, wondering vaguely why it wasn't chocolate. As if it mattered.  
  
"Sora-san,"  
  
Mitsuko looked at the girl across from her and felt that unmistakable twinge of desire. How sad that in this world her attraction for this girl was seen as wrong, as dirty. If only things were different she would tell her how she felt. If only things were different she would take that girl in her arms and hold her close, lay her head against her breasts and listen to the steady rhythm of her heart. If only things were different…  
  
"Everyone calls me 'Sora-san'. You're not just anyone, though. Can't we drop the formalities?"   
  
  
  
The sentence 'everyone calls me Sora-san'…what was the meaning behind it? Why did Haruka have the feeling that it was in someway important?  
  
"I'd love it if you called me 'Mitsuko'…"  
  
"Mitsuko," she echoed, loving the sensation of calling her by her given name, "Mitsuko, you can call me 'Haruka', if you want."  
  
She grinned. "Ok, Haruka. Haruka. My, that sounds much better! Considering the fact that you saved my life, I'd think dropping the formalities is appropriate."  
  
The simple ability to call each other by their given names was a novelty to both; neither had ever had a close enough friend to use this degree of familiarity before. To be able to call each other 'Haruka' or 'Mitsuko' was evidence that they were indeed friends.   
  
By the time Haruka had to leave for karate, both had opened up a great deal to each other. Both were able to be honest with each other, both were able to just be themselves. An incredible sensation for both: to be accepted for yourself and to be able to speak your mind without fear of the other's backlash.  
  
However, neither mentioned the way they felt towards the other. Both were wary of putting their friendship in jeopardy. There was too much at stake, the risks were too great. Still, their feelings remained a constant for both; neither could dismiss the way they felt towards the other. As time went on, these feelings only deepened, until denying them became impossible.   
  
*****  
  
The change in her demeanour was sudden and unexpected. What was the reason for the lightness of her step, the brightness of her eyes, the ever-constant smile on her face? Where was her ever-present anger, her 'fuck off' attitude?   
  
Something had happened.  
  
Kumada watched her breeze through the door, long hair trailing behind her and a soft smile on her face. She stepped into the change-room and emerged clad in her faded blue uniform, her hair tied in a tight braid and stuffed into a cap that advertised 'Kumada Motors'. Heading towards the gold Honda racer, swinging a wrench in her hand, Kumada could have sworn he heard her singing.  
  
Just what had happened to his prodigy?  
  
  
  
Underneath the car she went; Kumada turned his gaze over to the Mercedes he and two of his mechanics were working on. This was a real beauty, a silver Mercedes SL600 Roadster. The guy that owned it wanted a custom design on it; Kumada was looking forward to transforming this baby into a showpiece.   
  
However, Kumada found himself unable to concentrate on the Mercedes as he found his mind wandering towards Tenou.   
  
Just what was up with her, anyways? Tenou was like a whirlwind; she coursed through life at breakneck speed and totally exhausted all that tried to keep up with her. No one could catch her; by foot or by car, Tenou Haruka was unsurpassable.  
  
There was just no understanding that girl, he thought, but that didn't keep him from trying.   
  
"Hey, Kumada-san, are you listening?"  
  
"Huh?" he replied and saw that both his mechanics, Urawa and Sumoto, were grinning.  
  
"What's hotter than a bitch in heat?" asked his number one mechanic, Urawa.  
  
  
  
Kumada shrugged, "Dunno. What?"  
  
He snickered, "Her twat!"   
  
Both of his mechanics then started laughing idiotically, practically supporting each other, as they were laughing too hard to stand on their own.   
  
"Oh, real mature, guys," Kumada smirked, shaking his head. "Where'd you hear that one?"  
  
"He read it off the bathroom wall," Sumoto giggled, then started to hiccup.  
  
Kumada glanced over in Tenou's direction, hoping that she hadn't witnessed this pathetic scene. He didn't like the idea of her being exposed to such crude humour; after all, she was a girl and only thirteen to boot. He looked out for her, and gave hell to anyone who bothered her. Although Tenou didn't seem to need his intervention: after seeing how capable she was around cars, most of the racers and mechanics grudgingly gave her respect. The regulars just accepted her as one of the gang; while that was good in most ways it resulted in her being subjected to their crude humour. Even though she didn't seem to mind the guys' filthy jokes, Kumada still felt responsible for her.   
  
Thankfully she was completely absorbed in changing the Honda's oil. She probably hadn't heard.  
  
"Haven't I told you two fucks to keep your filthy mouths shut around the kid?" He threatened.  
  
Urawa grinned, "Aw, common, Kumada-san! You don't mind, do you, Tenou?"  
  
From beneath the car came her muffled reply, "It wouldn't bother me half as much if your jokes were actually funny."   
  
"Shit!" gasped Urawa, "You didn't think that was funny? I almost pissed myself when I heard that one,"  
  
"Considering you were on the toilet at the time, that hardly surprises me."  
  
Kumada sighed; it hardly seemed necessary to protect her from these guys. However, he wasn't about to let these guys get away with it…  
  
"Well, maybe Tenou isn't bothered by you two," Kumada lectured, "but here at Kumada Motors we have a certain code of ethics that must be followed."  
  
"Jesus, listen to him," laughed Sumoto, "He sounds like that fat chick from the bureau of 'Safe Workplace Environments', doesn't he, Urawa?"  
  
"Like the fuckin' Pope himself," Urawa replied.  
  
Kumada rolled his eyes. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I don't feel like being fucking sued by that 'fat chick', myself. Just what do you think would happen if some old lady walked in and heard you two going on about 'hot twats'?"  
  
"Dunno," said Sumoto, "Probably pass a kidney stone right on the fuckin' floor."  
  
They both proceeded to laugh like the couple of retards they were.  
  
"What would an old lady be doing here, anyways?" snickered Urawa, "Getting a body job on her fuckin' Buick?"  
  
Kumada hated to admit that they were right; Kumada Motors was a racetrack, and their specialty did happen to be custom work on racecars… but damnit, you never knew!  
  
"Nevertheless its up to us to promote a stable and friendly work environment…"he trailed off, conscious that he really did sound like that fat chick.  
  
"Then you'd better pitch those old magazines in your office," interrupted Sumoto, "Wouldn't want to offend any chicks that come by."  
  
Kumada was aware that he was blushing; he felt like smashing his fist through Sumoto's face. It was true, he did have a few old pornos in his office, but damnit, did that stupid shit have to bring it up? In front of Tenou?  
  
Luckily Tenou had left the auto-body shop. Kumada sighed in relief; he didn't want her to know about his rather dirty pastimes.  
  
"Just shut the fuck up Sumoto, if you know what's good for you." He threatened, however neither was impressed as they both continued to laugh like a couple of pansies.  
  
"Hey, Kumada-san?" asked Urawa, "You're about as tied up as a whore's phone line, man. Just what's got your panties in a knot?"   
  
"Yeah, man!" contributed Sumoto, "You're as uptight as a bitch going through her monthlies! What's up?"  
  
However deranged their way of speaking may be, those two fucks got it right on. His panties were tied in a knot, so to speak. But it didn't give them the right to mock him.  
  
"Nothing, and if I were you, I'd shut the fuck up, you rat's assholes!" He snarled, grabbing the filthy towel off the table and wiping the sweat from his brow. Even though it wasn't quite spring yet, the auto-body shop could get as hot as a Dutch oven.  
  
"You wish you were us!" Urawa grinned, displaying a set of teeth badly in need of orthodontic work. "Two red-hot stallions with the female population at their feet." He ran his oily hand through the long, shaggy strands of his mullet.   
  
"Like hell," Kumada mumbled, but couldn't help but laugh. Those two were just priceless.  
  
"So what's bothering you, man?" asked Sumoto, "Some chick won't let you sample her merchandise?"  
  
Kumada shook his head in disbelief. "Is that all you guys think about? Jesus H. Christ, one of these days I really am going to get my ass sued by some organisation or other."   
  
"Let's not go there again," moaned Urawa. "If you want to keep your trap shut, then I respect that. Jeez, you're as touchy as a bitch in heat."  
  
"Hey, that reminds me…"Sumoto trailed off as they both burst into laughter, probably recalling the stupid joke that started this whole argument.   
  
With a furious glare in their direction, Kumada turned his back and left the shop. He heard them snickering in the distance, but didn't bother returning. He didn't have time for those two and their antics. Not when he had more pressing issues on his mind  
  
The question burned through his thoughts, "what's up with Tenou?"   
  
He found her hanging up the tools in the supply room. Her back was to him; she seemed oblivious to his presence.  
  
Looking at her, Kumada was struck by just how much she'd grown the past few months. The pant legs of her uniform ended several inches above her ankles, revealing several inches of creamy white skin. Her hair was spilling from her cap; it reached past her slim waist. Through the baggy fabric, the outlines of her budding figure were visible. She started to turn around, and he caught sight of how her breasts filled out the shirt of her uniform; Kumada was aware that he was staring at her.  
  
He quickly backed out from the room lest she catch him watching. Unable to face her, he was conscious of how red his face was.  
  
Something had defiantly happened to her. He recalled the way she had greeted him earlier that afternoon, the smile on her face buoyant. Usually she arrived pissed from some debate with either a teacher or another student; usually she looked as if she would break the jaw of anyone who dared to look at her cross-eyed. Tenou usually wasn't…happy.  
  
The thought struck him that for the first time in ages Tenou was actually happy. Amazing, at times he felt her incapable of happiness. Sure, when she was on the bike she seemed free, but that wasn't the same thing. Escape wasn't happiness; it was more akin to relief. The question was what caused this sudden shift in her personality.   
  
Standing behind the door, Kumada saw her leave the supply-room and head for the change room. Within minutes she emerged in jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair in a loose ponytail. Watching from the window, Kumada saw her step outside. Waiting for her was the frail figure of a young woman; they linked arms and left together.  
  
"What'cha doing, Kumada-san?" The voice of Urawa interrupted his thoughts; Kumada banged his fist against the wall in frustration.  
  
"What do you think I'm doing?" he barked, "I'm just having a fucking cigarette," he pulled a package of Camels from his breast pocket and expertly lit it with an engraved lighter.  
  
"Can I bum one off you?" Urawa asked; Kumada offered his pack grudgingly. He lit the cigarette with a match and then proceeded to throw it out the open door.  
  
Puffing on his cigarette, Kumada was aware of the strange way Urawa was looking at him. With interest, but with distrust as well. Despite the fact that Urawa hadn't passed his high school entrance exams, that stupid fuck was pretty damned observant.  
  
Pretty damned observant…maybe he knew what was going on with Tenou? It wouldn't hurt to try…  
  
"Say, Urawa," he began, "Notice anything strange about the kid lately?"  
  
Urawa suddenly looked at him with suspicion. His dark eyes narrowed and he sucked in a deep breath of smoke. His words were edged with warning. "What do you mean?"  
  
Kumada shrugged. "Dunno, she just seems…different, somehow. Usually she's kind of, you know, pissed at the world…but lately she seems…almost happy."  
  
Urawa's eyebrow twitched, "Is that so unusual?"  
  
Kumada shrugged again. "For her it is. I'm just wondering if you noticed anything, that's all. Not that it's important or anything, just curious."  
  
"Just curious, huh?" he smirked, "as long as it doesn't go beyond curiosity." A warning, Urawa was warning him…but what about? What was that dirty little fuck warning him about?   
  
"Just because your mind lives in the gutter doesn't mean mine does." Kumada snapped, his eyes glowing red with anger. "Remember your place, Urawa."  
  
Urawa flinched, then lowered his eyes. "Sorry, Boss, I…"  
  
"Just forget it," he muttered, rubbing his temples in exasperation. He had dared to suggest…  
  
"Now that you mention it, Kumada-san, I have noticed something different about the kid," he supplied, eager to make up with his boss. Sometimes he crossed the line, and he lived in fear of going too far and losing his job. "There's no way he's like that," he consoled himself, "They're just buddies. To think a thing like that…"  
  
"What?" demanded Kumada, forgetting to seem disinterested.  
  
"She does seem happier, but there's a simple enough explanation for it." He said.  
  
"And that would be…" Kumada pressured.  
  
"Well, isn't it obvious?" he grinned, "The kid's fallen in love! Jeez, hard to miss something like that…"   
  
"…Fallen in love…"Urawa's words echoed throughout Kumada's head. "Fallen in love…"  
  
The girl who was waiting outside, the way they linked arms…  
  
"Oh my God," he whispered, the meaning becoming clear. In love, Tenou's fallen in love…  
  
*****  
  
{Hope everyone liked this next instalment. The comments from Chapter 10 are greatly appreciated! Don't be afraid to tell me what you think of this chapter as I take into consideration all suggestions. Feel free to comment on Mitsuko, Hoshino, Kumada, Kotano and those two stupid fucks (more ideas for stupid/dirty jokes!) Please R&R!  
  
BTW anything written from Kumada's/two stupid fucks' point of view are their views, not mine!}  
  
See you in chapter 12 (hopefully!)  
  
-Brandt 


	12. My Eiyuu 2first part

Sleep became a constant struggle as the dreams continued to plague her subconscious. Dreams of death, destruction…but those weren't the dreams that caused her to simultaneously dread and look forward to sleeping.  
  
Alone and confused, Haruka fought the temptation but was unable to resist her urges; despite the struggle, she gave in as the ache spread throughout her body and took control.  
  
Beyond her control…  
  
As her body changed new feelings were born. During the day these feelings were easy to avoid, easy to deny, but when night fell and she lay alone in bed they took over, they raged beyond her control. She knew that it was wrong, dirty, sinful…but was unable to stop herself. The cravings were too great, too strong to ignore. Or to avoid: despite her struggles she eventually caved in to her desires.  
  
Her body would scream with the effort to keep silent; she wanted to scream, to gasp and moan and shriek. Muffled by the pillow, her voice rose no higher than a whimper but she heard it echo throughout the walls of her head all the same. Sweat trickled down her face as she desperately made one last effort to suppress the tidal wave of desire…but for naught. Every time the desire won, every time she lost control and was helpless to her starved, demanding body. A lost cause, a never-ending struggle to suppress the desires that ran rampage throughout herself.  
  
Shaking, she raised her hands and made her body sing. Her hands shook as she fulfilled her body's needs…with exhilaration, with anticipation…but also with fear and shame. It felt so good, so unbelievably good, an itch that cried to be scratched, felt so good yet when it was over…  
  
When it was over…  
  
Then the guilt would come, and with the guilt came the shame. The disgust, the feeling of being dirty, soiled, used. Tears would build behind her eyes; she wouldn't let them fall. No, she had her pride, damnit! She would not cry! Not for something as pathetic as this, no, not her, Tenou Haruka! It didn't matter if no one was there to witness her shame, it didn't matter that she was completely and utterly alone, no, for she still saw. She saw…and was ashamed of her weakness, of her lack of control, of herself. No matter how fast she ran, no matter how strongly she revisited, the feelings always caught up and took hold of her. Kicking and screaming did no good; neither did pleading or crying. No, best surrender with your pride intact.  
  
Haruka's mind was torn in two: did she fight these feelings or did she surrender?   
  
But when it was over…she lay alone in her bed that seemed simultaneously too small and too large, she lay alone. Shaking, sweating from the expenditure, she would close her eyes and try to fight the shame that always followed. But she was too weak; the shame infiltrated through her, taking her; resistance was futile. One must pay for the consequences of one's actions, after all, and the shame was therefore justifiable. She lay there and took her punishment, hating herself for being so weak yet knowing that she deserved this.   
  
The pain, the shame, the self-loath…she deserved this. For wasn't she just as the boys said? Didn't she do these dirty, sinful things? It was a part of her, yes, but a part that must be hidden and repressed from the world, from herself.   
  
The worst part wasn't the caving in, nor was it the guilt. No, the worst part was the fact that she enjoyed it. She longed for these feelings; she anticipated the way her body responded to her efforts. With surrender came relief. She wanted this, she wanted these feelings, she wanted these dirty, sinful feelings to ravage her body and leave her breathless.   
  
That was made the guilt unbearable. She was not a victim of uncontrollable feelings, but a participant. The reason she was unable to resist was that she wanted this. Her body was stronger than her mind; matter over mind in this circumstance. Internally she hated herself for this, she dreaded these feelings but externally she longed for them, craved them with an unsustainable passion. A battle between her body and her mind; her body emerged victorious every time.  
  
And when it was over, when her body's needs were quenched and fulfilled, then her mind would retaliate by submerging her with the shame, the guilt, the embarrassment, the self-hate. The punishment for betraying herself…and for failing to abide to the expectations of society.  
  
The expectations of society: no that was not what really bothered her. She had always been an outcast and had never abided by society's rules or expectations so fear of their backlash wasn't the true reason she fled this part of herself. Other's opinions of her be damned; it mattered not if they disapproved of her. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them…and damned if it did.   
  
No, the reason she was ashamed, the reason why she denied this part of herself was not because she believed society to be right, it was not because she feared their disapproval. It was not because she feared their condemnation.   
  
So what did she fear? Why was it that she felt shame, guilt, self-loath about this part of herself? If it wasn't society's opinions, then what could have caused her to hate this part of her? What could penetrate through her wall, what could cause her to question herself and her feelings?  
  
Her mother.   
  
What would Kotano say if she ever suspected? How would she feel towards her daughter, the one who always failed to impress her or meet her expectations, the one who always managed to disappoint her? Their relationship was already crumbling because of Hoshino-what would happen if the truth were revealed?  
  
If the truth were revealed, if Kotano discovered her secret, then the relationship would be finished. Her mother was a critical person who disregarded anything that offended her or was opposite to her beliefs. Kotano was a woman who was set in her ways, unable to see beyond her own limited opinions, unwilling to try. And it just so happened that she was violently opposed to homosexuality.  
  
With these feelings questions arose within her; she sought desperately for answers.   
  
When Haruka first started having these feelings, she had turned to her mother for advice. She remembered a time not long ago, when she had been about ten. Although she and her mother had never had 'the talk', her mother would often hint about sexual changes and feelings that she was to expect. So Haruka concluded that it would be OK to ask for help learning just what these sensations were.  
  
Her mother had been at her vanity table; applying bronzer to her lovely face, and Haruka had been sitting on her mother's bed, watching Kotano's beauty ritual. She watched her mother's transformation from a pretty woman into a creature too gorgeous for words with a mixture of amazement and wonder. Kotano spoke to her daughter as she brushed her shimmering mane of platinum hair.  
  
"You must always take good care of yourself," she had said, concentrating on her reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing her features and arranging her hair so it fell in soft waves around her face. She contorted her face critically and rubbed a small amount of cream under her eyes.  
  
"It doesn't matter if you're just going to a party or just around the corner, a woman is always judged by her appearance." She gazed at her face with admiration in the mirror, "How old would you say I am, Haruka?"  
  
Haruka had answered, "Mid twenties, why?" Confused on why it mattered, on why her mother would spend hours moaning over any number of small things such as a wrinkle only able to be seen with her magnifying mirror.  
  
Her mother had smiled with satisfaction, "because where ever you go, there are always men. And men always have one thing on their mind: sex. Now don't you give me that face, young lady! You're old enough to know what happens between a man and a woman, and you're old enough to know that I am a woman, not just your mother."  
  
Haruka knew...she just didn't like hearing about it. Her mother gave her this line whenever she didn't come home at night or whenever one of her boyfriends got a little grabby.   
  
"A woman must always be aware of her appearance," she lectured, "for men are critical. Let yourself slip, and they'll notice." She pursed her lips and blotted them with a tissue. "You could meet The One any day in any place. Be aware that you're always on display, that whenever you go out you are presenting yourself to the world. You're just a kid now, but before long you'll understand the importance of all this. Before long you'll meet a handsome boy and this will all make sense."   
  
Haruka remembered feeling uneasy; she remembered looking down into her lap and thinking  
  
{Why is talking about boys oh god does she suspect does she know???}  
  
Kotano turned from her mirror and faced her daughter; Haruka recalled the scrutiny of her gaze, she felt as if her mother was trying to see into her thoughts. A faint blush coloured her cheeks; she lowered her eyes, as her mother's stare was unsettling.   
  
Kotano walked over to her daughter and sat beside her on the bed. Without words she stared into her daughter's eyes, something must have displeased her as she had frowned and lines appeared between her brows.  
  
Haruka remembered becoming more and more nervous as her mother's gaze was unwavering; she began to sweat uncomfortably.  
  
However, Kotano was not concerned with what was going through her daughter's head, she hadn't a clue of what her daughter was thinking. In fact the idea of her being gay hadn't even crossed her mind.  
  
"You're a handsome girl, Haruka." She said. "A little too tall and a little too thin, perhaps, but you have definite possibilities. You are your father's daughter, after all, and although he was a deadbeat, he was probably the best looking man I've ever dated." She stood up and motioned for her daughter to do the same; Haruka obeyed cautiously, unsure of what her mother was thinking, of what she wanted, unsure on how to proceed.   
  
Unsure if she was relieved that her mother hadn't seen or disappointed because that meant she'd have to tell her mother herself.  
  
Lead towards the vanity table, seated before the large mirror, Haruka caught sight of herself behind the glass; too tall, too thin, her mother's exotic looks overshadowed by her father's stronger, harder features.  
  
(You are your father's daughter)  
  
Her mother stood behind her, looking into the mirror intently at her daughter's reflection.  
  
"You have good bone structure," she had said, "well proportioned features, high cheekbones…very well shaped face. With a little work this could work."   
  
Taking out a hairbrush Kotano pulled her daughter's hair from it's ponytail and ran it through the untamed tresses with expertise; she then took out her scissors and trimmed her daughter's uneven bangs and the ends of her hair. Braided with a blue ribbon, trimmed and brushed it hardly resembled its former disarray. Humming softly, Kotano rummaged through her make-up drawer and came out with a vast selection of different products, the majority unknown to Haruka. Silver shadow applied gently to her eyelids, pink gloss to her lips, dark mascara to her lashes, Haruka had the odd sensation that she was being overwritten. That she was being tailored to her mother's fashion, that she was being cloaked and hidden behind paint.   
  
With a sigh of satisfaction, Kotano smiled and said, "Finished! Now look at the difference, I can barely recognise you!" Said happily, as if it were a good thing.   
  
Haruka looked into the mirror and did not recognise the figure behind it; behind the glass was a girl who looked older, more feminine, more like her mother. Less like her father…and less like herself.  
  
Torn between conflicting emotions, she was happy that she no longer resembled the man she hated, but despondent because she no longer looked as she had before.   
  
Kotano was thrilled with the results; Haruka hid her discomfort as not to upset her mother. Her mother's feelings came first, after all. They always had.  
  
"In a few years you'll be a real beauty," her mother said, "who is bound to find a nice boy and settle down. When the time comes I'll be there to help you find an appropriate candidate."  
  
Now was her chance! Quickly, before her mother could continue, before she could stop herself, Haruka asked her mother the question that had been troubling her for the past few months.  
  
A shadow had passed over her mother's features then; something cold glittered in her eyes.  
  
"That is not an issue," she had said angrily, her voice rising, "You are not to think those thoughts! You are not to question yourself that way! That is absolutely dirty, Haruka! What has put such thoughts in your head?"  
  
A panicky feeling emerged in the pit of her stomach; her head hurt and she felt miserable. Her eyes lowered, she was unable to face her mother.  
  
"Look at me, damnit, Haruka!" her mother had demanded; slowly Haruka met her mother's furious gaze. Eyes ablaze, nostrils flared, Kotano was no longer beautiful.  
  
"You are to forget those dirty thoughts!" she hollered, her voice steadily rising, "Do you hear me? Forget them! There is no way that you're…there is no reason for you to question yourself!"  
  
Haruka averted her gaze; her mother jerked her head up and refused to let her escape.  
  
"Do you understand what I'm saying?"   
  
Hands shaking, she summoned all of her courage and looked her mother directly in the eye and revealed the fears that had been lurking in the depths of her mind; brought forth with urgency, as if unspoken now they would be unable to be spoken ever again. Now or never, as the saying goes.  
  
"But what if I was?" she had asked shakily but bravely.  
  
What happened next was so strongly engraved into her mind that it would haunt her for years, it would be the basis of many of her decisions and would result in how she judged herself and her lifestyle. It would cost her much happiness, and cause her much pain. It would set a barrier between her and those who cared for her; it would prevent her from fulfilling her own needs and desires. Basically, it would follow her and impact her decisions and actions, and shatter her self-confidence. It would cripple her indefinitely.   
  
"You're not." Her mother replied with exasperation. "Enough of this foolishness, Haruka, you are trying my patience.  
  
"But what if…what if I was?" she stammered, throwing caution to the wind; she had to know. She dared to say the word aloud. "What if I was gay? What then…"  
  
The hand struck her face with considerable power; Haruka hadn't seen it coming. Her face very pale with the mark of a handprint across her face, her eyes wide open in disbelief, Haruka turned her other cheek to her mother and awaited her punishment. As if she deserved her mother's wrath for even daring to challenge her beliefs.  
  
Kotano raised her hand and struck the offered cheek with a vengeance, not heedful of the significance of her daughter's gesture. Not caring; all she saw was her daughter being difficult, all she saw was her daughter disobeying her.   
  
Haruka was shocked at her mother's violent display, shocked at the wild look that had sprung into her eyes, shocked at her aggression. She couldn't speak; all that emerged from her throat were odd gasping sounds.   
  
It took a moment for Kotano to register just what she had done; she stared at her hand as if it were alien to her. Then at the figure crumpled on the floor, holding her cheek and uttering small-strangled cries.  
  
A strange look passed over her face; a mixture of surprise, dismay and fear, disbelief that she could hit her own child. But behind her fear was a stronger, colder feeling, a feeling undecipherable to her but present nonetheless. What was that look in her eye? It was cruel, vicious…could it be satisfaction that she had gotten her point across? Despite the means?  
  
"Oh my God, Haruka," she cried out and knelt beside her daughter, tried to touch her poor red face…but Haruka flinched, her eyes distraught.  
  
Looking up at her pitifully, Haruka found herself unable to move; she was shaking all over. She remembered thinking  
  
{she'll hate me ohmigod what will she do if she finds out?}  
  
and cowering, frightened, wanting her mother to love her. The slap had been a shock, but her mother's words had maimed her more than any physical punishment could.   
  
"Oh Haruka sweetheart, oh I'm so sorry Mommy's so sorry oh my poor baby…" she rambled on, unmindful to what she was saying, heedless to all but the fear in her daughter's eyes.  
  
"Mommy," she repeated thoughtfully, unable to remember her mother ever describing herself that way. Or her mother ever calling her sweetheart or baby…  
  
Kotano hugged her daughter close to her; Haruka cringed inwardly.   
  
"I didn't mean to," she rambled, "I didn't mean to hurt you come on Haruka sweetie look at me please I'm so sorry Mommy's so sorry…"  
  
Haruka couldn't bear to look at her mother; she knew that although the slap had been unintentional, the meaning behind it was not. The slap was only a symptom of her mother's anger, her mother's hate…what truly hurt her was the meaning behind the slap. Excuses didn't change the fact that her mother felt this way, and no words could take away the burning sensation that the slap had imprinted in her mind.  
  
But at least she knew. There was to be no second-guessing herself now that her mother's reaction had been witnessed. Now that she knew how she felt Haruka knew that her true self was best repressed, hidden-and denied. This knowledge, the knowledge that her mother would not accept her for who she was, caused Haruka pain; she felt that she had lost something significant. Indeed she had; Haruka had lost faith in her mother. The child's perception that her mother would love her no matter what was shattered; the realisation caused her to lose a piece of her childhood. No longer was she able to believe in the eternal love of a mother towards her child; she now knew that there were limitations and exceptions.   
  
"…ruka? Haruka!" her mother pleaded desperately, "Please answer me! Haruka, I'm sorry please answer me!"  
  
Turning her gaze towards her mother, Kotano was shocked to see the emptiness in her daughter's eyes. As if she had lost something significant…  
  
"Haruka, please forgive me," her mother hastily pleaded, "You just gave me such a shock! But you didn't mean it, did you, honey?" asked with anxiety, not for her daughter's forgiveness but with fear that Haruka really had meant what she said.   
  
Trembling, Haruka met her mother's gaze. "I…I didn't mean it. I'm sorry that I upset you, Mom. I forgive you."   
  
Mom, not Mommy…Haruka couldn't bear to call her that. Not after all that had been said.  
  
The lie caused her angst, but it was necessary. No, it was better to lie to her mother than for her to learn the truth, even if it meant lying to herself. Her mother always came first. Always.  
  
Kotano literally sighed in relief; Haruka knew that she had salvaged their relationship yet why was she unhappy?   
  
"Now don't ever scare me that way again!" Kotano exclaimed, "And don't you ever doubt yourself that way. You understand why I reacted that way, don't you? You understand why I was so angry, right?"  
  
Remaining unsaid but clearly evident in her mother's expression was  
  
{you had better understand or else don't even think of disobeying me}  
  
Sighing miserably, Haruka had nodded.   
  
She understood, oh how she did! If she were to defy her mother and come out, then she would lose her. Her mother, her only family, the only one who hadn't left her, the only one she allowed herself to love…she could not disappoint her. No, not if it meant denying herself, not if it meant being unable to love another.   
  
On remembering this scene, she shivered and embraced herself. No matter how difficult, no matter how lonely, she would follow her mother's words; she would never reveal her true feelings. If it meant a life without love, then so be it. If it meant a life without a partner, then so be it. If it meant being alone forever…then so be it. There was no way she would risk losing the only person she loved…even at the expense of losing another.   
  
{Sorry about how long this took, but this segment was very difficult to write. This is only the first half of the chapter but I thought that I'd post it anyway as it stands on its own (and it will be a while before the second half is done!)  
  
As always, all feedback is appreciated and I look forward to hearing from you! Feel free to leave a review () or email me at micherukhotmail.com Thanks, see you next segment! }  
  
-Brandt 


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